


Step By Step

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dildos, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-28
Updated: 2007-12-04
Packaged: 2018-10-15 11:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: When Sam walked back into the motel room, coming back early after the library shut at lunch for staff training, Dean was lying on his bed, eyes shut, one hand wrapped around his cock while he fucked himself with a dildo.





	1. Don't Think About It, Just Do It

When Sam walked back into the motel room, coming back early after the library shut at lunch for staff training, Dean was lying on his bed, eyes shut, one hand wrapped around his cock while he fucked himself with a dildo. Sam just stared for a few moments as heat rushed through his body, then Dean opened his eyes and saw him and his face froze in shock. Sam backed quickly out of the room, shutting the door very firmly behind himself.

The image of it was burnt into his mind though, and he just stood still outside the door for a while unable to stop himself replaying the smooth way the dildo had slid into Dean, or the sound of his frantic breathing as he stroked his cock. Dean's knee had been bent up, giving Sam a clear view of the way the dildo had looked, with Dean's ass stretched around it as he pushed backwards, moaning. Sam was shocked to feel himself getting hard as he imagined what it would be like if his cock replaced the dildo, if he was sunk deep inside Dean like that. The fantasy came out of nowhere and he wasn't sure what to think about it - he'd never thought about Dean like that before. They were brothers, for crying out loud - why would he find it at all hot?

He decided to go and find a café somewhere a long way away where he could try and forget it, while hiding for a few hours until Dean was definitely finished, showered and ready to start pretending nothing had happened. Then he heard Dean say his name from inside the room and a wave of panic washed through him.

'Shit, does he know I'm still out here?'

Dean said it again, and Sam realised it was a moan and that Dean was saying Sam's name to himself as he fucked his own ass with a dildo, and what the fuck did that mean?

‘What is he thinking about?’ Sam thought wildly, ‘Is he…?’ Sam stopped himself, there was no way he was going to think about Dean imagining Sam's dick up his ass, but the idea was already in his head, and it sent a rush of blood to his cock. His hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment as he tried to talk himself into just getting the hell out of there, then Dean groaned loudly enough to be heard clearly through the wall and Sam threw the door open and went inside before he knew he was going to do it.

"Fuck!" said Dean, scrambling for the sheet to cover himself. "Get outta here, Sam!"

Sam ignored him, shut the door and stalked towards Dean's bed, stripping off his t-shirt, shirt and hoodie in one go as he did so. He pulled the sheet off Dean and threw it on the floor, then bent over his brother and curled his fingers around Dean’s cock, his precome slick and the flesh hard.

"Fuck," said Dean in an entirely different tone.

"Want a hand?" Sam asked, and it came out almost as a growl.

"Sam..." said Dean, sounding as if he was going to start asking questions. Sam tightened his grip on Dean's cock, making Dean break off. "Yes, God, yes," he said after a moment.

"Right," said Sam, telling himself not to over-think this too much and to just go with what his dick, already pressed hard against his jeans, wanted. He let go of Dean's erection and stepped back to take off the rest of his clothes. Dean watched him in silence, his eyes dark with lust and looking as if he was finding it hard to process what was happening.

Sam stripped off as quickly as possible, then knelt on the bed and pushed Dean’s legs open so he could fit between them. He took a deep breath as he stared down at Dean and wrapped his fingers around the dildo where it was still buried inside his brother. He started to pull it out, and Dean gave a choking breath, lying back and canting his hips up towards Sam. Sam had just been going to take it out, but the look on Dean’s face stopped him and he couldn’t resist thrusting it back in, making Dean swear and arch his back, putting his hand back on his cock. Sam drew the dildo out without anymore teasing, and Dean immediately sat up, putting his hands on Sam's waist, and running them up his sides to his chest, then down and over his ass.

"Sam," he started again, but Sam wasn't in the mood for a conversation.

"I want to fuck you," he interrupted. Dean's grip on his ass tightened.

"Fuck," he said again, and Sam wondered why he'd never realised that hearing Dean swear in that rough, slightly disbelieving tone would turn him on so much. Dean reached down the side of the bed and picked up a bottle of lube. He emptied some out on his fingers, then grasped Sam's erection, sliding his hands up and down to spread lube over it and Sam gasped at the feeling. Dean turned around, pulling himself up on his knees and presenting his already open and slick ass to Sam.

"Come on then," he said, sounding impatient and slightly nervous.

Sam held tightly onto Dean's hips as he pushed inside, feeling Dean's body tighten around his cock, far hotter than he could have imagined.

"Yes," panted Dean, "Sammy," and Sam pulled back out, then thrust in hard. Dean choked out a swear word and pushed back, clenching around Sam's cock as Sam did it again and again, trying to get into a rhythm but it was too hot, too sudden and unexpected to be deep inside Dean, to know what it felt like to fuck his brother and hear the stream of curse words intermingled with Sam's name that intensified as Dean got closer and closer to the edge. Dean grasped his own cock and pulled at it with hard, rough strokes and Sam found himself pounding Dean's ass so hard that he must be hurting him, but he couldn't stop, couldn't slow down, couldn't do anything but cling to Dean's hips hard enough to bruise and keep thrusting, even as Dean gave a low, hoarse cry and came. Sam could feel every muscle in Dean's body clench hard in orgasm and it pulled him over the edge, making him come hard inside Dean's ass while Dean was still shaking and coming down from his own climax.

For a few moments it felt like he wasn't able to pull enough air into his lungs, and he worried he was going to asphyxiate. Slowly, he managed to calm his breathing down, although it was hard when he was still pressed against Dean, and the realisation was beginning to sink in that he'd just fucked his brother into the mattress. He pulled his now limp cock out of Dean, and Dean fell forward onto the mattress, then made a disgusted noise.

"I'm lying right in the wet spot," he complained, but his voice was weary and he didn't move. Sam wondered if he felt as wrung out and boneless as Sam did. Dean was sprawled over the whole bed, and for a moment Sam was tempted to just collapse on top of him, but he had a feeling that wouldn't go over very well.

Dean turned his head enough to look at Sam over his shoulder. "You're not going to freak out, are you?"

Sam thought for a moment and realised with surprise that he wasn't at all freaked out by having just had truly awesome sex with his brother. "No," he replied, before dragging himself up and staggering the few feet to his bed and crashing out on it. "Are you?" he added as an afterthought.

Dean snorted. "When do I ever get freaked out by sex?" he said, but his tone was off, and he sounded strangely bitter. Before Sam could pull his mind together to analyse it, Dean sat up. "I really need a shower."

"Me too," agreed Sam, feeling the sweat that coated his body cooling.

"Yeah, well, I get first dibs," said Dean, standing up with visible effort, "because I've got come dripping out of my ass."

Sam made a face at the mental image, ignoring the part of his mind that was turned on by it, and waved a tired arm in the direction of the bathroom. "Be my guest," he said. "I think I'm going to take a nap."

His eyes were already shut and he could feel himself falling down into sleep as Dean went into the bathroom and closed the door.

 

 

 

*


	2. Don't Think About It, Just Do It

 

Dean tried not to over-think things - _if it felt good, do it_ was pretty much his motto. Thinking about things from every angle and dissecting them until you couldn't remember the point of them to start with was Sam's scene, not his.

Still, when he first found himself thinking about Sam when he masturbated, picturing Sam's freakishly large hands around his cock and wondering what noises he'd make if he was buried deep inside of Dean, it made him pause for a moment. After all, on the scale of Normal on which Jessica had been a 9.5 (minus .5 for being burnt alive by a demon) and the Winchesters were a 4 on a good day, wanting your brother had to be a 0. But it felt good, and as long as Sam never found out - never heard Dean crying his name out in the shower or noticed him eyeing his chest when he took his shirt off - it wasn't a problem, right? After all, it wasn't as if Dean was hurting anyone, not even if he bought himself a dildo so that he could pretend Sam was fucking him in the hope that it would drive the thoughts from his mind.

It didn't, but it did make him come ridiculously hard and left him feeling relaxed and mellow for a couple of days, so the next time he knew Sam wasn't going to to be back for a while, he did it again. By the time Sam walked in on him, he was well-practiced at it. He knew exactly how many fingers he had to fuck himself with before he was open enough for the dildo, how hard he could take it and still walk normally enough that Sam wouldn't notice it the next day, and how long he needed to bask in the afterglow before he could stand up for long enough to shower.

When he opened his eyes to see Sam standing in the doorway, his immediate thought was that his fantasy had taken flesh and he was finally going to get to feel the heat of Sam's cock inside him. Then he noticed the look on Sam's face, and reality kicked back in, just as Sam left, slamming the door behind him and no doubt getting as far away from the room as possible.

Dean didn't know what to do for a moment. He felt frozen in place by the look on Sam's face, and he quickly ran through the last few minutes in his mind - had he said Sam's name at all? He'd had his eyes shut, picturing his brother thrusting into him, so Sam could have been there for a while, paralysed by horror at the sight of his older brother fucking himself with a dildo. He couldn't remember anything though, couldn't think of any way he might have given his fantasies away. His cock reminded him that he was in the middle of something, and now was not the time for deep thinking. It seemed highly unlikely that Sam would risk coming back anytime soon, after all.

If it feels good, do it, he told himself, and what would feel really good right now would be if he angled the dildo slightly to the left and pushed it in hard, while stroking his cock and letting his eyes slide shut so that he could regain the image of Sam braced above him, driving into him. He soon found his rhythm again, hips rocking upwards as he synchronised the hand on his cock with the one pushing the dildo in. He began to thrust it in harder, and heard himself saying Sam's name, panting it out like a curse word.

He was completely unprepared for Sam to burst in, flinging the door open with a crash. Dean swore and tried to cover what he was doing with the sheets, hampered by the dildo which was still buried deep in his ass.

"Get outta here, Sam!" he growled, wondering what the fuck his stupid brother was doing back.

Sam didn't seem to hear him - he was just staring at Dean, looking resolved, then he shut the door and strode towards the bed. Had Sam heard him saying his name? Was he going to beat Dean up for being a sick pervert? But then Sam pulled off all of his shirts, exposing his golden skin and muscled stomach to Dean's eyes, and yanked the sheet away. He wrapped his hand around Dean's cock without any hesitation, and Dean nearly came right there from the feel of the skin on Sam's palm.

"Do you want a hand?" asked Sam in a low, rough voice that sounded like every one of Dean's dreams come true. He began to wonder if he'd died - had the heart attack Sam was always telling him was coming if he ate another burger - and this was heaven. If he had, then the real Sam was going to discover his cooling corpse in a few hours, frozen in place with the dildo still obscenely sticking out. Dean had a moment of sympathy for the mortician who'd have to remove it.

"Sam," he started, meaning to ask him where the angelic hosts were, and if they were about to be joined by a couple of pornstars, but Sam didn't let him finish, instead squeezing Dean's cock in a way that made him prepared to do anything he wanted.

"Yes, God, yes," he told any deities that might be listening. If this was his reward for a life well-lived, who was he to complain?

 _Except it wasn't well-lived_ pointed out a voice in the back of his head, _you bought a dildo and fantasised about your brother fucking you_ , but Dean ignored it, because Sam was letting go and stepping back. Was he suddenly realising the depths of Dean's depravity and preparing to leave and never come back? No, he was taking his clothes off, taking all his clothes off and Dean was treated to the view of his brother's naked body, lean and hard and right in front of him, then Sam climbed on the bed and grasped the end of the dildo, knocking it against Dean's prostate. Dean found himself unable to support his weight on his arms as intense pleasure rushed through him, and fell backwards, automatically shifting his hips to the right angle. Sam started to slowly pull it out, turning Dean's insides to liquid, and then thrust it back in, in just the right way. Dean had to grab the base of his cock to stop himself coming like a teenager being touched for the very first time. He wondered if Sam had done this before, and if so with who and would Dean get away with killing them?

When Sam took the dildo out, Dean couldn't keep his eyes off the look on Sam's face - concentrating hard and very serious, as if this was a research problem that needed to be solved, while his gaze took in every detail of Dean. It was unbelievably hot - far more so than any fantasy Dean had ever had (and he'd had a lot.) He sat up and ran his hands over Sam's body, feeling how smooth it was, and charting the change in texture between his chest, stomach and buttocks. It was definitely Sam, warm and real beneath his hands and he couldn't keep his thoughts in any longer. What was Sam doing? Did he realise how much Dean wanted this? Where was this headed?

"Sam..."

Sam interrupted him again before he could get beyond that, saying, "I want to fuck you," with such heat that Dean thought he was going to combust at the words. Suddenly, all the questions and possible repercussions seemed unimportant compared to getting Sam's cock into him as quickly as possible and finding out if it felt as good as he'd been imagining, whether the dildo was even in the same league. He grabbed the lube from where he'd dropped it earlier and slicked Sam up, savouring the feel of Sam's cock beneath his fingers and wondering if he'd be able to feel the silky texture of his skin once it was inside him, or just the hardness behind it.

He got onto his knees, his ass turned towards Sam and gritted out a gruff, "Come on then," to hide his nerves.

All thoughts fled as Sam sank into him, filling him far more than the dildo ever had, stretching him until he thought he was going to burst with arousal and heat and the knowledge that it was Sam, his brother Sam, making him feel like this, like nothing would ever compare to this moment.

"Yes," he was unable to stop himself saying, "Sammy."

Sam didn't say anything, but Dean could hear his breathing, loud and heavy, and then he moved, pulling out and pushing back in, and Dean couldn't believe how amazing it felt to have Sam here, fucking him with hard, strong strokes, plunging into Dean deeper and deeper until Dean lost all control over what he was saying and could only concentrate on pushing backwards into the motion. He could feel Sam everywhere - burning inside him and gripping his hips as if Dean might disappear, panting and moaning with every movement as if he couldn't stop himself, as if Dean was making him lose control and the thought had Dean grasping for his cock, unable to stop himself pulling at it desperately even though he wanted this to last, seeking release as the pressure built up with every stroke, surging down his spine and pooling in his balls until he was coming. Sam didn't stop, thrusting hard into Dean another couple of times before reaching orgasm, gasping for air as if he was dying.

There was a long moment as Dean gathered his scattered thoughts and wondered what they were going to do now. What was the usual post-coital procedure when your younger brother had just fucked you so hard that you were seeing stars?

Sam pulled carefully out of Dean, and Dean couldn't believe how empty he felt. He fell forwards, unable to hold himself up and then realised he'd fallen in a pool of his own spunk. He raised just enough energy to whine about it to Sam, hoping to break the awkward silence, but not enough to move out of it. Sam was still kneeling up, and Dean braced himself for the inevitable weight of his body collapsing on top of him, but it didn't come. Sam seemed frozen in place.

Dean turned to look at him, and reconised the shellshocked expression as 'what the fuck did I just do?'

"You're not going to freak out, are you?" he asked, wondering if he had the energy to deal with the emotional fall out yet.

Sam blinked at him, still looking dazed. "No," he said, sounding surprised. He got up and went over to the other bed, moving as if he was about to keel over, then threw himself down on it. Dean was strangely upset by that - surely it was better than having all six feet five of his stupidly tall brother crushing down on him? Except, he realised, he'd wanted that - wanted Sam's skin pressed against his, wanted to feel his warmth weighing down on him. What the fuck was wrong with him?

He was completely fucked - and not just in the not-going-to-be-able-to-sit-down-tomorrow way. He wanted a post-coital moment with Sam, wanted to kiss him and stroke his skin and feel Sam's body close against his. That was totally fucked up - a minus score on the Normal scale..

"Are you?" said Sam, sleepily.

It took Dean a moment to work out what he meant, and then he was unable to stop himself snorting bitterly. "When do I ever get freaked out by sex?" _No_ , he thought, _I'm freaked out by the realisation that I might be in love with my brother_. The phrasing of the thought shocked him and galvanised him to action. He desperately needed a shower - needed to wash the sweat and come off his body before they hardened.

"I really need a shower," he told Sam, sitting up.

"Me too," said Sam, still sounding as if he was only a step away from nodding off.

 _Wish I'd known last year when he was barely getting an hour's sleep every night that sex made him drop off,_ thought Dean. He stood up, feeling his body complain. "Yeah, well, I get first dibs," he said, adding bluntly, "because I've got come dripping out of my ass."

As he'd suspected, the coarse image made Sam give in without a fight, although that could also have been the effort it was obviously taking for him to keep his eyes open. "Be my guest," he mumbled, "I'm gonna take a nap."

 _No shit, Sherlock,_ thought Dean, crossing to the bathroom and shutting the door firmly, desperate to get clean and put his thoughts in order.

 

 

 


	3. Don't Worry About Where You Are

The sun was bright so Sam flung an arm over his eyes to shield them, too lazy to move more than that. The heat of the sun made him feel sleepy and relaxed, and the grass was soft and slightly itchy underneath him. He decided that a short sleep wouldn't hurt - after all, they weren't in a hurry to get anywhere or they wouldn't have stopped at this picnic place at all, they'd have just eaten lunch as they drove. Something soft bounced off his arm. He ignored it, but he could hear scrunching noises to his left, and it didn't take long before he was hit again.

"Stop it," he said, with no hope at all that Dean would comply.

The only response was a snigger and another two volleys of whatever it was Dean had found to throw at him. Sam sighed, moved his arm and opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness of the sun. Dean was sitting against the Impala, tearing up the paper bag that his sandwich had come in. He squashed a piece of it into a ball and then threw it at Sam, who knocked it away.

"Jesus, can't you entertain yourself for fifteen minutes?"

"Nope," said Dean, unrepentantly.

Sam gritted his teeth, resolutely shut his eyes again and went back to ignoring him. Dean threw a couple more balls of paper at him, then there was a long silence. Sam was wondering if Dean was actually going to let him go to sleep, when he felt a tickling sensation along his stomach. He hit out at it and opened his eyes again. Dean had found a long stalk of grass and was running it along the gap between his shirt and his jeans. Sam pulled the grass out of Dean's hand and threw it away, then sat up with a sigh.

"Fine," he said with resignation, "Do you want to go then?"

Dean shrugged. "There's no hurry."

Sam clenched his jaw in frustration. If there was no hurry, why couldn't Dean just let him go to sleep?

There was another silence, then Dean said, in an off-hand voice, "You could fuck me."

Oh.

It had been two days since Sam had fucked Dean, and apart from the few words before Sam had fallen asleep, they hadn't discussed it at all. Dean had woken him half an hour later to tell him that there had been another mysterious death at the house they were investigating, and then there'd been no time for heart-to-hearts between interviewing witnesses, breaking into the library archives and trying to take the poltergeist out. By the time the hunt was over, it was a day later and Sam had realised that he had no idea what to say about it anyway. He couldn’t bring himself to start a conversation with 'so, how long have you owned a dildo, then?' or 'don't you think it's a little weird to want to fuck your own brother?'

"If you wanted to," added Dean, after Sam had been silent for a moment. Sam looked around the picnic area. They were the only ones there, and a stand of trees screened them from the occasional car passing on the road, but it was still a bit more public and open than he was really comfortable with.

"Here?" he asked.

Dean's shoulders relaxed, and he grinned. "Sure, why not?"

Sam wasn't convinced. "Someone might come in," he pointed out.

"Come on, Sammy," said Dean, "Live a little. Besides, no one else has been in the whole time we've been here - what are the chances of them coming in the next ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes?" said Sam, raising an eyebrow.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, half an hour, Mr Stamina." He jumped up and opened the car door, rummaging in the glove box. When he turned around, he was holding lube and a condom. "We doing this?" he asked.

Sam glanced round at the woods one last time, then remembered what it had been like to have Dean clenching tightly around his cock, and nodded. Dean grinned, pulled off his T-shirt and kicked off his shoes. Sam couldn't take his eyes off his brother's body, mapping all the familiar lines of it and wondering why it was turning him on now when it never had before. Dean pulled off his jeans and underwear, looking very relaxed and confident for someone bare-assed naked in the middle of an area intended for families to eat sandwiches and play frisbee.

Dean knelt down beside Sam. "This isn't going to work if you're wearing pants," he pointed out.

"Right," said Sam, and he put his hands on his zipper, then hesitated. It just felt too weird to strip off here, especially with the intention of fucking his brother.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Feel free to take your time," he said. He flicked open the lube, coated his fingers and knelt up so that he could carefully push a finger inside himself. Sam felt a heat rush through him at the sight and he tried to take in every detail of Dean fingering himself open, pressing deep inside himself. Dean shut his eyes and bit his lower lip as he worked a second finger inside, his breath hitching. Sam realised his cock was pressing hard against his jeans and, no longer caring about the possibility of someone else coming into the picnic area, he desperately ripped open his flies, pulling down his pants enough to free his cock so that he could wrap a hand around it. When he looked back up at his brother, Dean was staring at Sam's hand and as he watched, Dean pressed another finger into himself and groaned, eyes half closing and locking on Sam's face. He grinned smugly at whatever he saw there.

Sam realised that if they were going to do this (and it certainly looked like they were) then he wanted to do it properly, and he wanted to start by wiping that look off Dean's face. He lunged at Dean, grabbing his shoulders and bringing their mouths together in a hard, passionate kiss. For a moment, Dean didn't react, and Sam thought they were going to fall against the car, then Dean was moaning as his fingers came free and clutching at Sam's shirt, kissing him back and fighting for dominance. Sam wasn't about to give up his control though, running his hands down to Dean's ass and pulling him closer, groaning as his cock rubbed against Dean's stomach. He could feel Dean's erection against his thigh, and he pressed up against it, then slid his fingers down Dean's ass crack, feeling where Dean's fingers had been. Dean made a deep noise low in his throat, and pushed backwards against Sam's hand.

Sam pulled their mouths apart enough to ask, "Can I?"

Dean nodded fervently, "Yes, god, yes."

Sam knelt back and pulled Dean with him, until they were pressed close together with Dean's weight resting on Sam's thighs. Their cocks rubbed together and they both groaned, then Dean kissed Sam again, deep and wet, thoroughly exploring the inside of his mouth as if he was trying to memorise it. Sam found the lube lying on the grass nearby, and drizzled some out onto his fingers before running them back down Dean's ass and circling his hole.

"Come on," said Dean, grinding against him impatiently, and Sam pushed two fingers inside, feeling Dean stretch around him. Dean groaned and pushed down on them, then pulled up, fucking himself open on Sam's hand while Sam just knelt there and watched Dean's face, his eyes closed and his mouth open.

"Come on," said Dean again, "I can take another one." Sam pulled his fingers out and replaced them with three, making Dean shudder, but he kept up his motion, driving himself down onto Sam's fingers and rocking his hips. Sam had never seen anything sexier.

"You're...still wearing too many clothes," said Dean breathlessly, still working himself open on Sam's fingers.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I've got my hands full at the moment," he pointed out.

"Yeah," said Dean, not sounding at all unhappy abut it. He ground down on Sam's fingers a couple more times then pulled away and sat back on the grass. "Well, I want you to fuck me now, so you better lose them pretty quickly."

Sam felt light-headed at the thought and he pulled his shirt off in a hurry, ignoring the sound of ripping material, and then sat back to kick his jeans and underwear off completely.

"That's better," said Dean approvingly and straddled Sam again, gripping his cock with one hand. Sam gasped at the sensation and his head fell back as Dean rolled the condom on him.

"Fuck," he moaned.

"Give me a moment," said Dean with a grin, "we'll get there." Sam though about rolling his eyes, but was too distracted by the feel of Dean's skin against his, by how close their bodies were. Dean put his hand on Sam's chest and gently pushed him backwards.

"Lean back," he said, and Sam put his arms out behind him to take his weight. "Yeah, like that," said Dean, then started to lower himself onto Sam's cock, encasing it in tight heat.

Sam groaned, "Fuck," in a long breath, and Dean held onto his shoulders tightly, pausing his slow movement only when Sam's cock was as deep inside him as it would go. He looked at Sam with an expression that was strangely serious, his eyes holding something Sam couldn’t place, then he rolled his hips and Sam swore again. Dean pulled himself up, still using Sam's shulders for leverage, and then sank back down. Sam couldn't do anything to help as Dean got into a rhythm, couldn't even move with all his weight on his arms and Dean on his legs. Dean was shaking and panting and Sam stared at his brother's face, at the way he shut his eyes whenever he pushed down, and how his muscles were flexing with the effort of it.

It was long and slow, with the sun still shining down on them and the birds singing in the background of their loud breathing and the sound of their bodies moving together. Sam could feel his orgasm buildng, but he didn’t want this moment to end, wanted to stay locked together with Dean like this for as long as possible, then Dean did that thing with his hips, closing his eyes and biting his lower lip, and Sam couldn't stop himself thrusting up and coming. He shut his eyes to ride it out, and when he opened them again, Dean was staring at him, still biting his lip and Sam couldn't resist lunging forward to capture it himself, grabbing at Dean to stop him falling and kissing him as hard as he could while putting a hand between their bodies to grasp Dean's cock.

Dean moaned into Sam's mouth as Sam pulled at his cock, wondering how the feel of his brother's cock in his hand could feel so strange and yet so familiar at the same time. Dean came after only a few strokes, shooting his load over Sam's hand.

They were both breathing heavily as Dean took a couple of moments to pull himself together, then kissed Sam again, one hand moving up to stroke through his hair. When he pulled back, he stared hard at Sam, as if looking for something. Sam wondered if he still thought Sam was going to freak out about this and sought to reassure him.

"So, we going to do that everytime you're bored?" he asked, grinning.

Dean grinned back, but something about it seemed slightly off, and he pulled himself away from Sam. "Sure, why not?"

"Well, I guess it's better than having you throw stuff at me," said Sam, wiping his hand on the grass, then peeling the condom off and putting it in the bag with their trash from lunch. He was feeling drowsy again, the sun warm on his skin, so he lay back on the grass, watching as Dean pulled on his clothes and thinking that he should probably do the same. He'd just shut his eyes for a moment first, then he'd get up and put his jeans on.

"Oh, no, Sam," said Dean as Sam let his eyes drift shut, "you're not going to sleep here. Get dressed and get in the car, then you can nod off."

Sam opened his eyes and frowned, but Dean looked resolved. "Besides, weren’t you the one worried about someone coming in here? You really want to flash Mr and Mrs Suburbia in their SUV, and all their kids?"

Sam sighed and sat up. "Thought you said no one was going to drive in." he said, pulling his boxers on.

Dean shrugged as he took their trash over to the garbage can. "Well, yeah," he said. "I was trying to get in your pants." He looked over his shoulder and winked. "And it worked, didn't it?"

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled his clothes on, then got in the car. He leant against the window and closed his eyes, feeling sleep tug at him. Dean got in a few minutes later, and Sam thought for a moment he felt the weight of Dean's hand on his head, then the car started, and they pulled away. Sam was asleep before they'd left the rest area.

 

 


	4. Don't Think About What You're Doing

Dean hated digging up graves. It wasn't the effort involved, or the way he always ended up covered in dirt, or even that it took ages for just a few minutes of burning, and then you had to fill the damned thing in again, although none of those factors helped. It was the horrible monotony of it – just one spadeful after another, with nothing to hold his attention and stop his mind from wandering.

Tonight, for example, his brain had decided to rehash everything about this fucked-up sex thing with Sam, as if Dean didn't already know that he was completely screwed. No, it had to go back through all the ways Sam had shown that this was nothing but sex to him – the way his kisses were all about want and nothing about affection, the friendly, happy grin he always gave Dean when it was over, with nothing deeper behind it and the way he never touched Dean when they weren't fucking, except in the same, casual way that he had before.

Dean gritted his teeth and dumped another spadeful of dirt out. Really, it should have been fine – Dean had always wanted a fuck buddy, after all – but he couldn't help wanting more from Sam. It made him feel like such a girl, but he just wanted to see more than lust in Sam's eyes as he pushed into Dean, or to just sleep beside him for once.

Sam huffed a sigh and Dean glanced up, stupidly paranoid for a moment that Sam was reading his thoughts. Sam had shown no sign that he had any idea that Dean wasn't as happy with the brothers-with-benefits arrangement as he was, and Dean wanted to keep it that way. He couldn't even bring himself to imagine what Sam's reaction would be – pity, probably, and a careful speech about how Sam didn't, couldn't feel the same. And the stupid thing was, if anyone had asked Dean a few months ago he'd have said that he'd have been the one who was happy with just sex, while Sam would be the one hankering after...Dean's mind skittered over the word 'relationship'.

“Jesus, it's hot,” said Sam, interrupting Dean's train of thought. Dean had to agree. They were right in the depths of Mississippi and the heat that had kept them in the motel all day, close to the air con, had barely dissipated at all when the sun went down. Sam pulled himself out of the hole. “I'm taking my shirt off.”

Dean smirked, trying to keep up his horndog reputation. “Trying to distract me?” It wasn't hard to act as if thoughts of sex filled his every moment, after all.

Sam rolled his eyes, then stripped off his shirt. Dean found himself faced with acres of smooth skin, looking unusually pale in the moonlight. “I don't think you need much distracting,” he said, “you've been in a world of your own all night.” He carefully folded his shirt, then draped it over the head stone.

Dean snorted at the action. “I doubt it's gonna get any dirtier if you put it on the ground,” he pointed out.

Sam jumped back into the hole and picked his spade back up. “I don't want to lose it,” he said. “Be a pain if we buried it by accident when we fill in.”

Dean wasn't really listening to him though. He was watching a droplet of sweat work its way slowly down Sam's spine. “Yeah,” he said shortly, when he suddenly realised he was staring and turned back to the digging, trying not to think about licking that droplet up and tracing every knob of Sam's spine with his tongue. He heard Sam laugh under his breath, and wondered again if Sam could read his mind.

Sam hit the coffin first, and they scraped away the last layer of dirt and Dean smashed in the lid before they both crawled out of the hole. Dean let Sam do the honours, watching the way the match lit his face strangely, creating shadows that almost turned him into a stranger. When he threw it onto the body, the flames leapt up quickly, illuminating him slightly better and giving Dean a clear view of Sam's chest, his skin almost seeming to glow in the firelight. Dean knew he was staring but, damnit, there was only so much one man could take, and half an hour in a small hole with Sam while he was shirtless was Dean's limit. He stepped closer to Sam and touched his stomach with both hands, making Sam draw in a sudden breath. Dean ran his hands up to Sam's chest, lingering for a moment over his nipples, and feeling the way the fire had heated his skin.

“Dean,” said Sam in a low voice, “I'm not going to fuck you in a graveyard.”

Dean hadn't been thinking about sex, he'd just wanted to touch, but Sam's words made him think for a moment, and then grin. “Ok,” he said. He put his hands on Sam's shoulders and drew him down for a kiss, trying to transmit some of his raw need to Sam, pushing him back against a mausoleum wall and running his hands all over him, feeling all the skin he could. Sam tried to resist for a moment, then gave in, opening his mouth to Dean with a sigh and kissing him back with equal fervour.

When Dean's hands descended to his jeans, though, he pulled back enough to say, “Dean,” warningly.

“Don't worry,” said Dean, “We're not going to fuck.” He undid Sam's button and zipper. “I'm just going to suck you off.”

Sam said “Oh,” in a very surprised tone of voice, and Dean took advantage of his moment of shock to push his jeans and boxers down and drop to his knees. He'd never done this before, but he'd been thinking about doing it to Sam for a while, wondering how he would taste and how much he could make his brother lose it with just his mouth. Dean pressed a kiss against Sam's inner thigh, watching the way his cock, already hard, twitched at the action.

“Jesus, Dean,” said Sam in a breathless voice, and Dean looked up to see him lean his head back against the mausoleum. He grinned and then returned his gaze to Sam's cock, licking a deliberate stripe up it, rolling the slightly bitter, saltsweet taste of Sam around his mouth. Sam moaned and his hips jerked, so Dean put his hands on them, then did it again, tongue lingering at the head, circling it and flicking over the slit.

“Dean,” groaned Sam in a lust-filled voice, and Dean grinned to himself, because, yeah ok, maybe he wanted more than lust from Sam, but he always wanted more than he could get and he was willing to settle for being able to make Sam sound like that. He slid his lips around the very tip of Sam's cock and sucked, pulling an unintelligible noise of need from Sam. Suddenly, Dean couldn't wait any longer, he just wanted to stop teasing and have his mouth as full of Sam as he could, feel the weight of him against his jaw and taste him in the back of his throat. He plunged his mouth down, taking all of Sam's cock that would fit and sucking as Sam swore and thrust with his hips again. Dean held them steady for a moment as he adjusted, then let them go and braced himself on the wall instead, letting Sam fuck his mouth as much as he wanted to. It was harder than he'd thought, coordinating his movements with Sam's while Sam's cock hit the back of his throat, threatening to make him gag, but it was amazingly hot as well, and he could feel his own cock growing hard as Sam began to lose it, his hands clinging to Dean's hair and the air growing heavy with the sound of his desperate swearing. When he came, Dean had only just enough warning to pull back so that he didn't gag when Sam's come filled his mouth and he desperately swallowed as much of it as he could, not wanting to lose a drop. Sam groaned and then collapse down on to his knees.

“God, Dean,” he said again, sounding wrung out, and then just leaned forward, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean grinned to himself and resisted the temptation to tangle his hand in Sam's hair, instead setting about freeing his own aching cock, pulling it just enough out of his pants so that he could wrap a hand around it and began to stroke, hard and fast.

After a couple of minutes, he felt Sam's hand on his, taking over, so Dean let his hand fall away and gasped, “Yeah, Sammy. Just like that,” as everything became centred on the feel of Sam's hand on his cock, the tickle of his hair against his ear, and the weight of his head on his shoulder. Heat rushed through him, down his spine and into his cock, and then he was coming, shooting white streams into Sam's hand with a choked groan of “Sam, Sammy.”

They stayed locked like that for a moment, and Dean tried to ignore how good it felt to have Sam pressed so close to him. Then Sam's breathing evened out into a familiar pattern, and Dean had a sudden realisation. “Dude, are you falling asleep?”

“No,” said Sam into his neck, but his sleepy drawl gave him away. For a moment Dean was almost tempted to just let him fall asleep against him, like he had when they were kids, then reality kicked him.

“I'm not filling this grave in alone,” he said.

“Ok,” said Sam, not sounding anymore awake. “Just let me rest my eyes for a moment, and I'll be with you.”

Dean sighed and poked him harder, then reluctantly pushed him back, off his shoulder. Sam blinked at him with sleepy eyes and Dean had a sudden desire to kiss him. But they didn't do that, didn't kiss unless there was sex involved, so he pushed his dick back inside his pants instead and did them up. He stood up, but Sam didn't move and was still looking only a step away from sleep, so Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. Sam came easily, swayed for a moment, then sighed and visibly pulled himself together.

He bent to pull up his jeans and said, “I fucking hate digging graves.”

Dean picked up his spade and went to check that the fire had burned all of the body, “Yeah, me too,” he agreed.

“When we get back to the motel,” said Sam, picking up his own spade, “I'm going to fuck you properly.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, feeling lust fill him again, and then glanced down at the grave. “Can we just leave this for someone else to fill in?”

Sam laughed. “No,” he said.

Dean sighed. “Man, I _really_ hate digging graves.”

Sam laughed again, and threw the first spadeful of dirt down on the ashes.

 


	5. No Distractions

“I'm bored,” said Dean in a long, drawn-out drawl. He was sitting watching TV on his bed, but every few minutes he channel-hopped, searching for something better.

Sam was engrossed in his book and ignored him, but a few minutes later he said it again louder and with slightly more force. Sam didn't need to be Einstein to get what he was hinting at, but the plot was all coming to a head in his book, and he was _sure_ that it was all going to end badly, and he knew if he gave in to Dean's unspoken demand and fucked him, he'd fall asleep almost immediately afterwards and the book would remain unfinished for another night.

“I'm not,” he said pointedly.

Dean sighed and was silent for a few minutes, flicking through the channels one more time. Sam went back to his book and was just being drawn back into the plot again when Dean turned the TV off abruptly and came and sat on the bed next to him.

“Sam...” he started, and put his hand on Sam's knee.

Sam shook it off. “Dean, I'm reading,” he said crossly.

“Fine,” said Dean, moving his hand away. He sat still for a few moments, watching Sam read and making him feel very self-conscious when he turned a page. He carefully didn't look up though, aware that if he did, if he saw the heated gaze Dean was no doubt giving him, he'd crumble and give in. Every time they did this (and that was starting to be disturbingly often now) it had been because Dean instigated it – mainly because he just always seemed to think of it first. Sam had enough of having to accept Dean's decisions in the rest of their life – when they were going to take a rest stop, which motel they checked into, what music they listened to – he was damned if he was going to let Dean have control over this as well. He stared hard at the words on the page until Dean got up and moved away, going to get something out of his bag. Sam felt relieved that Dean had thought of something else to do, but deep down he could feel his cock's disappointment. _Later_ , he thought, _after I've finished this and made him wait a bit._

Then he heard a zipper, and couldn't stop himself looking up. Dean was pulling off his clothes, and next to him on the bed lay the lube and the dildo.

Oh.

That was not what he'd thought Dean would find to do instead. “Dean!” he hissed, scandalised.

“What?” said Dean, pulling down his pants. “If you won't entertain me, I'll have to do it myself.”

Sam gritted his teeth and told himself he wasn't going to be blackmailed into this. “Fine. I hope you have fun.”

Dean grinned. “Oh, I will.”

Sam glared at him and returned his gaze to his book, but couldn't concentrate on the words anymore, instead listening intently to the noises from Dean's bed. He wasn't giving in, he reminded himself. He wasn't going to let Dean win this. There was the click of the lube cap, the liquid sound of it being poured out and then Dean grunted slightly, and Sam instantly recognised it as his 'I've got a finger up my ass' grunt. Sam clenched his jaw and stared at the book, the words all blending together with the force of his stare as he strained to hear Dean fingering himself open, slick sounds of skin against skin intermingled with the occasional groan. It was all so familiar to him now, and his cock knew exactly what it meant, hardening enough to press uncomfortably against Sam's jeans. No time at all seemed to pass before Dean moaned and there was the distinctive sound of him sliding his fingers out.

“Sure you don't want to help me?” he said, sounding a little breathless.

“I'm reading,” repeated Sam stubbornly, although he'd forgotten what was happening in his book completely, and wasn't even sure what the main character's name was anymore.

“Your loss,” said Dean, and then grunted again, slightly louder, and Sam knew, _knew_ that he'd just pushed the dildo into his ass, and was now fucking himself with it. He could remember exactly what that had looked like, exactly how hot Dean had been when he'd been thrusting it into himself, the way his eyes had been pressed shut and his mouth hanging open, his lower lip reddened where he'd been chewing on it. He could hear Dean's panting get harsher and heavier and found it increasingly difficult to remember why he wasn't over there, fucking Dean into the mattress. _It's the principle_ he reminded himself, then Dean gave a low, throaty groan and Sam couldn't stop his eyes from leaping up from the page and across to the other bed. His mouth went dry at the sight before him – Dean was on his back, the dildo pressed deep into him, his knees drawn up so that Sam had the perfect view. He doubted that was an accident.

Sam swallowed hard, then put his book down very carefully and stood up, walking to the foot of the bed. He couldn't stop himself; every cell in his body yearning to get close to Dean and fuck him into insensibility. Then Dean opened his eyes and grinned smugly when he saw Sam standing there, as if he'd known Sam would give in. Sam was suddenly really pissed off – after all, he'd just wanted to finish his book first. He took hold of the dildo and Dean relinquished it to him immediately, no doubt thinking that Sam was going to just take it out and fuck him, but Sam had other ideas. He carried on the rhythm that Dean had started for a few strokes, watching Dean's hands grip at the sheets, then sped it up, pushing in harder and faster while Dean's eyes rolled back and he moaned.

“Come on, Sammy,” he gasped, “Fuck me for real. You know you want to – come on and do it.”

“Actually,” said Sam, trying to keep his voice from showing how turned on he was, “what I want is to be able to finish my book in peace.”

He twisted the dildo as he pushed it in and Dean groaned, “Sam,” sounding desperate. Sam wanted him to sound more desperate though, wanted him to beg for Sam, to promise him anything. He couldn't get over how much power he had over Dean when he was like this, how Dean would just lie back and take it, let Sam do whatever he wanted. It went straight to his cock to have such control over him and he tightened his grip on the dildo, wondering how far he could take this.

Dean looked like he was coming apart now, his hips thrusting up into Sam's strokes and his fists knotted in the sheets so tightly Sam thought they might tear, and he couldn't seem to stop himself pleading when Sam started to angle the dildo up slightly. “Come on Sam, fuck me, don't want to come without you inside me, please, just...just fuck me already.”

Sam ignored him, concentrating instead on hitting the right spot each time and keeping the rhythm and the force consistent, until Dean's hand let go of the sheets and started to move across to grab his dick, which looked painfully hard and was weeping pre-come. “No,” he said, knocking Dean's hand away without thinking about it. “Not until I say you can.”

For a moment he thought he'd gone too far and that Dean would ignore him, then Dean grasped at the sheets again, twisting them in his grip and gasped, “Jesus, Sam. Okay, okay.”

His capitulation sent another sudden rush of hot blood to Sam's cock, and he pushed down hard on it where it was still trapped in his jeans, and then came to a sudden decision. He pulled the dildo out of Dean as quickly as he could and Dean gave a choked moan of need and loss and looked up at Sam with lust-filled eyes, his pupils blown so large that Sam could only see the tiniest ring of green.

“You gonna fuck me already?” he asked, his voice gruff, but Sam could hear the desperation and frustration beneath it.

Sam, who'd been intending to do exactly that, couldn't resist saying, “No,” just to see the look on Dean's face. “I might go back to my book,” he added, although he couldn't even remember the title now.

“Sam,” growled Dean.

“Or,” continued Sam, “You could try sucking my dick. Then I might consider fucking you.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, and for a moment Sam thought that Dean was going to refuse point blank, then he sat up suddenly and put his hands on Sam's flies, ripping them open. Sam sucked in a surprised breath, then knelt up to allow Dean to drag his jeans and boxers down. Dean didn't seem to be in the mood to tease, and the moment Sam's erection sprang free of his clothes, Dean's mouth was enveloping it, hot and wet, making Sam gasp and fall back on his heels. It felt like Dean was trying to suck his soul out through his dick, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head, making Sam begin to lose it, moaning and holding onto the sides of Dean's head tightly as if he might disappear, might stop doing the amazing things he was doing if Sam let go. Dean grabbed at Sam's hips to stop them bucking up and then did something with his tongue that made Sam swear out loud. He realised that this wasn't going to last very long at all if Dean kept it up, and it certainly felt like he would. Sam really wanted to be inside Dean before he came, so he moved his hands and pulled Dean up, diving forward to kiss him hard, moaning at the taste of himself in Dean's mouth.

“I'm going to fuck you now,” he said, his voice sounding unusually deep.

“Yeah?” said Dean, his hands still tightly gripping Sam's hips. “Maybe I don't want you to now.”

“After that,” growled Sam, “you damn well better.” He kissed Dean again, then pulled away so that he could strip off his clothes.

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe I want to read your book.” His eyes were hot on Sam as Sam took off his shirt and kicked away his pants though, so Sam felt no qualms about pushing him back down on to the bed, crawling between his legs and ravishing his mouth. Dean made a surprised noise, then opened his mouth to Sam, let him take everything he wanted while his arms curled around Sam's back, holding him close.

“I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you'll feel it for a week,” Sam promised when he eventually pulled back.

“Jesus,” said Dean, his voice unsteady. “Well, all right then. Get on with it.”

Sam grinned in satisfaction and sat back. “Turn over,” he commanded, and Dean did so without even an eye roll at Sam's demanding attitude. He pulled himself up onto his knees, moving fast, as if he was afraid Sam might change his mind and go back to the book after all. Nothing could have been further from Sam's mind as he ran a hand down the line of Dean's spine and down his ass, pushing two fingers inside, wanting to be sure that Dean was ready for this.

“Jesus, Sam,” growled Dean in frustration, “there's no need for any of that crap. Just do it already.”

Dean still felt slick enough and stretched open from the dildo, so Sam took his word for it and lined up to push his cock inside instead, trying to take it slow, trying so hard not to just slam into Dean but it was all he wanted to do when Dean was so hot and tight and Sam could feel his muscles flexing around the intrusion, letting Sam in and then clenching around him as if unwilling to ever let him go again.

“Fucking finally,” muttered Dean, and pushed backwards against Sam's cock, forcing it in deeper and making Sam lose what little restraint he had left. He pulled out again, almost all the way, then thrust back in as hard as he could, making the bed shake and Dean swear. Sam was gripping Dean's hips as tightly as he could, no doubt leaving bruises, as he drove into Dean again and again, trying to get as deep as he could, trying to make Dean feel it right down to his toes. Every part of him seemed to be burning with the feel of Dean around his cock and he was only half able to hear Dean's babble of curses over the blood rushing in his ears.

“Fuck, yes, Sammy, come on, fucker, do it harder. God, Sam, yes, fuck.”

Sam did his best to oblige, his hips snapping forwards almost on their own and the headboard of the bed began to bounce off the wall, but he couldn't bring himself to care what their neighbours might think, not while Dean was rocking backwards and still talking as if he couldn't stop himself.

“Yes, Sammy, yes. Fuck, I gotta...you gotta let me, Sam, please, you have to let me...”

Sam felt as if his mind was full of a red haze, and he found it incredibly difficult to work out what Dean wanted from him, then he saw Dean's hand, hovering near his dick as if aching to touch it but not actually going near it and he suddenly remembered _Not until I say you can._ The thought that Dean was waiting for him to say it was ok, that Dean was giving him that much control over this was enough to send him over the edge, thrusting into Dean one last time as his orgasm ripped through him.

“Fuck, Dean,” he gasped, the words just pulled out of him by the force of his climax, and Dean made a low noise, almost sounding as if he was in pain. Sam took pity on him and grabbed his cock, barely needing to touch it before Dean came too, groaning Sam's name.

The room seemed strangely quiet for a moment without the banging of the headboard or the slap of flesh against flesh, as they both paused and tried to get their breathing back under control. Sam pulled carefully out of Dean, and Dean gave a stifled moan that Sam ignored. The other bed suddenly seemed a very long way away, and he was really tired, so he just collapsed down where he was, next to Dean. As he'd predicted earlier, he could tell he wasn't going to be able to stay awake long enough to clean up, let alone finish his book.

“This is my bed,” Dean pointed out, but he didn't really sound pissed off, more surprised.

“I'm not moving,” said Sam, his eyes drifting shut.

Dean didn't say anything, didn't even seem to move for a moment, then he sank down beside Sam, his limbs sprawling over Sam's as he tried to fit them both into a bed that was definitely not designed for two grown men to share. It was Sam's turn to be surprised - he'd expected Dean to get up and go over to the other bed, but perhaps Dean was feeling pretty low in energy as well. It was nice, though, he thought fuzzily as he drifted asleep, having someone beside him as he slept.

 

****

 

The next morning Sam woke up feeling warm and relaxed, gently floating to consciousness through the haze left over from a dream where he'd felt happier than he could remember being for a very long time when awake. He suddenly realised that Dean's chin was resting on his shoulder, his arm thrown over Sam's chest, and their legs were so tangled together that Sam wasn't sure which was his and which was Dean's.

 _What the fuck are we doing?_ he thought in sudden panic, and tried to pull away. Dean, who was still fast asleep, made a noise of disapproval and clung to Sam tighter. Sam took a deep breath and pushed the panic down for a moment, then gently lifted Dean's arm and slipped out from underneath it. Dean didn't wake up as he left, just rolled into the warm space Sam had left behind as Sam headed for the bathroom as fast as he could.

He shut the door carefully behind himself and then took another deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't believe he'd spent the whole night _sleeping_ with Dean, sharing a bed as if...as if they were a _couple_. _This is so fucked up,_ he thought desperately. What had he been thinking to just go to sleep like that?

He turned the shower on, suddenly desperate to wash off all signs of the sex last night. He turned the heat up as hot as he could stand it and braced himself with one hand against the tiles, letting the water wash over him and wondering how he'd got to this point, how they'd managed to cross so many lines.

After about five minutes, he heard Dean push the door open. “Hey, I'm busting for a pee,” he said, “I promise not to flush.”

“Fine,” said Sam, biting the word off, not able to think of a good reason to make him leave.

Dean peed quickly, even keeping his word not to flush, then paused before leaving. Sam could feel his gaze on him but he didn't look up, instead concentrating on the way the water swirled down the drain.

“We could conserve water,” suggested Dean, and Sam didn't need to see his face to know he was leering.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” he snapped, “Would you knock it off?”

“What?” said Dean, sounding surprised and defensive.

“Doesn't this strike you as at all wrong?” said Sam, finally looking up at his brother.

Dean blinked, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and Sam could see he was still half-asleep and not able to deal with this. “Jesus,” he sighed. “Don't worry about it – just, just get out of here.”

Dean didn't move. “You're finally freaking out?” he asked, sounding a little resigned.

Sam gritted his teeth. “Dean, we're brothers,” he pointed out.

Dean nodded, but he didn't meet Sam's eyes, instead staring at the floor. “Yeah.” There was an awkward silence, then Dean turned to leave the bathroom. “We'll stop doing it then,” he said in a tired voice, “if you want, I won't even mention it.”

He shut the door behind himself with a quiet click and Sam sighed, resting his head against the tiles.

 _This is so fucked up_ he thought again.

 

****

 


	6. No Excuses

 

Dean sat on his bed listening to the shower for a while. He'd known from the start that this was coming, that Sam would one day realise what he was doing and freak out, but as time had passed and Sam had shown no sign of it, Dean had stupidly let himself hope that it wouldn't happen. For a while, he'd actually thought he was going to be allowed to keep this but he should have known better. He shifted slightly, still able to feel the burn of Sam inside him, thinking how strange it was that he might never feel it again.

Sam was usually pretty quick in the shower, especially if he knew Dean was waiting, but after ten minutes and no sign of him finishing, Dean realised that this was going to be a marathon shower. He pulled on some clothes, not wanting to just be sitting around naked when Sam came out, then hesitated. He really wanted a shower, wanted to wash the grossness from the evening before away, but if Sam was freaking out this badly, maybe Dean shouldn't be there at all when he came out. He remained caught in indecision for a couple of heartbeats, then grabbed the room key and left to get coffee.

When he came back, Sam was fully clothed and packing up his stuff. He took the coffee without meeting Dean's eyes and Dean retreated into the bathroom immediately, trying to tell himself that this wasn't going to last, that he hadn't fucked them up completely.

They had a long day of driving ahead of them, and Dean settled into the routine of it as best he could with Sam a quiet shadow of his usual self. He kept his promise not to mention it though, desperately trying to act as if everything was normal, as if the bottom hadn't fallen out of his world. He didn't want Sam to see how much it was fucking him up that he'd never get to touch Sam like that again, never hear the sounds Sam made as he slid his cock into Dean, never feel the rush of pleasure as Sam's cock brushed his prostate. He wasn't entirely sure he was that successful at that though - it was hard to hide that from someone who knew him so well.

"It's not the sex," said Sam out of nowhere, after they'd been driving for about four hours and Dean was beginning to think about stopping for lunch.

"What?" he said, caught off guard.

"It's not the sex I'm freaking out about," clarified Sam, "although I probably should be." He stared out of his side window, offering Dean only a glimpse of his profile. "I mean, it's just sex, right? It's not like it really means anything besides a few minutes of pleasure."

Dean blinked. That had almost sounded like something he'd say. "Then why..." he started, but Sam hadn't finished.

"I just like to do it with people I know, rather than strangers," he said and then he did turn and look at Dean. "You're pretty much the only person I know now, so why shouldn't we do it?" he shrugged. "We're not hurting anyone."

And, ok, maybe that wasn't exactly what Dean wanted Sam to say, but it was so logical - so Sam - that he couldn't help feeling cheered. "Wait," he said after a moment, "then why are you freaking out?"

"We slept together," said Sam, as if it was obvious.

Dean frowned. "Yeah," he agreed, "several times, but you just said..."

"No," interrupted Sam, "We _slept_ together. Dean, when I woke up this morning, we were..." he paused, searching for a word, then said "cuddling" in tones that suggested it was akin to eating babies.

 _Oh_ , thought Dean, _this is that freak out._ He sighed and hoped like hell that he could get through this conversation without giving away that last night, falling asleep next to Sam, had been everything he'd been wanting since this thing started.

"I mean...we're brothers," continued Sam when Dean didn't say anything. "We're not meant to do that kind of thing. Our physical affection should be limited to...to shoulder punches and the occasional manly hug. We shouldn't be sleeping all tangled up together like... like a _couple_ or something."

"We do lots of things we shouldn't," Dean was unable to resist pointing out. He felt Sam's glare on the side of his face. "Look, if it bothers you that much, then we won't do it again," he said. "We can stick to separate beds. You were the one who fell asleep in mine, anyway."

"Yeah," said Sam, but he still seemed subdued, and went back to staring out the window. Dean suppressed a sigh and pulled into the carpark of a diner.

He turned off the engine, but for a moment neither of them moved. "Look, Sam," he said eventually, "I don't know what to say. It was weird to fall asleep like that last night but...I don't think it was any more weird that what we did before it."

Sam frowned at him for a moment. "So how do you justify this then, Dean? How come you're not freaking out?"

Dean faked a grin. "You know me," he said, then shrugged. "If it feels good, do it." He kept to himself that his mantra was rapidly changing to 'if Sam will let you, do it,' and got out of the car before Sam could ask more questions.

Sam got out as well. "And does that work for you?" he asked, curiously.

Dean shrugged again. "Always has so far," he lied, then headed for the diner.

Sam was quiet over lunch and for the next few hours of driving, clearly deep in thought. Dean left him to it, taking the opportunity to work through Def Leppard's early albums.

"So, did it feel good?" said Sam suddenly, right in the middle of a guitar solo.

"What?" said Dean, wishing Sam would stop starting conversations in the middle.

"Last night, when we...went to sleep. You said you worked on the principle of 'if it feels good, do it' so it must have felt good, or you'd have moved."

"Uh, yeah, I guess," said Dean, aware he was skating on dangerously thin ice.

Sam nodded and was silent for a couple of bars of wailing guitar, then said in a quiet voice, "It felt good to me too."

Dean stared at him for a moment, then slapped the wheel in frustration. "Then why all the drama about it?"

"Because it shouldn't have!" exclaimed Sam. "It should have felt weird and vaguely wrong, not..." he searched for the word, then settled for, "normal."

"Well, we're way beyond what we should be doing, Sam," said Dean, "So I don't think that's a good standard to judge things by."

"Fine, then," said Sam, sounding pissy, "What do you _want_ to do then?"

 _Keep you close and safe for as long as I can_ , thought Dean, but said, "Doesn't matter what I want. You're the one freaking out. What do you want?"

Sam sighed and flopped back against the window. "I don't know," he admitted.

There was silence for a while except for Def Leppard, and Dean felt on tenterhooks, waiting for whatever Sam would decide.

But Sam didn't say anything, he just kept frowning out of the window, watching the landscape flow by. It was another few hours before Dean pulled into a motel parking lot and stopped outside the reception. He didn't get out immediately, instead sat staring at the building, trying to convince himself not to ask.

In the end he took a deep breath and said, "So, Sammy...am I getting a double or two singles?"

He kept his eyes steadily ahead, even as he saw Sam's head whip round out of the corner of his eye.

"Um," said Sam after a moment, and Dean tried not to stop breathing in anticipation. "A double, I guess."

Dean felt something warm and girly unfurl in his chest, but ignored it. "Okay," he said and got out of the car.

 

****

 

It initially felt awkward when they walked into the room and there was just the one, big bed, but Dean put his bag down on the side nearest the door and after a moment, Sam took the other side, and suddenly it felt like they'd done this a thousand times before.

Besides, thought Dean later as he watched the Terminator, it was just as if they had two beds, except that instead of Sam being a couple of metres away as he read his book, he was only a couple of inches. Dean could have moved very slightly and been touching him, but he didn't because he was very aware that if he distracted Sam again from finishing his book, he was liable to wake up to find his eyebrows missing.

It suddenly got awkward again when the film was over, and Sam finally finished his book, and they both knew it was time for bed. Dean let Sam have the bathroom first, then used it himself as quickly as he could. When he came out, Sam was standing by the bed, looking indecisive.

He looked up at Dean blankly for a moment, then grinned. "I can't decide what to wear," he admitted.

Dean leered at him as sleazily as he could. "How about nothing?" he suggested.

Sam started to roll his eyes, then blinked and said, "Yeah, that could work." He stripped off his t-shirt and Dean couldn't resist wolf-whistling. Sam threw it at him.

"You get naked as well," he said firmly, "then we can have sex, and if last night if anything to go by, that will kill any weirdness."

"You always this bossy about sex?" asked Dean, but he started to pull his clothes off as well, ready to go along with any plan that involved Sam, naked and sex.

"Yes," admitted Sam, then hesitated before adding, slightly shyly, "you didn't seem to mind last night."

Dean concentrated on undoing his jeans. He'd kinda hoped that Sam hadn't noticed that - he really wasn't ready for that conversation yet. Or ever, really. When he looked up, Sam was kneeling on the bed, completely naked and watching Dean with hooded eyes.

"Come here," he said, stretching out an arm, and Dean did, crawling onto the bed and kissing him, clinging tightly to his shoulders.

After a few minutes, Sam pulled back and rested his forehead against Dean's. "See?" he said quietly. "This should be weird, but it's really not."

Dean didn't have an answer to that. He'd given up wanting normality a long time ago, but it seemed that Sam was still hankering for it, even after everything.

"If it feels good..." murmured Sam, then stroked his hand down Dean's arm and trailed it around his stomach to Dean's cock. His fingertips brushed over the head and Dean sucked in a breath at the hint of a sensation.

"I don't know what I want yet," admitted Sam, "But you know what you want, don't you?"

 _I want everything_ , thought Dean wildly, hoping Sam was going to do more than tease him. He put on his cockiest, most uncomplicated grin. "I'm good for anything you've got."

Sam grinned back. "Then let's go with that," he said and his hand, resting on Dean's hip, came back to his cock, griping hard. Dean felt all his blood suddenly rush south and his hand clutched harder at Sam's shoulders.

"You look really hot like that," said Sam, staring at him, and he sounded surprised.

"I _am_ really hot," Dean pointed out, still trying to sound cocky and cover the rush of pleasure that ran through him at the words.

"Yeah," agreed Sam. Dean grinned. If Sam thought he was hot, and was willing to give this a try despite his freak out, maybe there was hope after all. Maybe this wouldn't go horribly wrong and leave him with nothing.

Sam moved his hand on Dean's cock, pumping it a few times and making Dean groan, before abruptly letting go.

"I want to suck you off," he announced.

"God, yes," gasped Dean, barely able to process the thought of Sam's mouth on him. Sam let go of Dean's dick and pushed him backwards onto the bed. Dean went willingly, twisting so that he was propped up on the pillow.

Sam settled between his legs, then glanced at him slightly anxiously. "I've never done this before," he said.

Dean laughed. "You ever done any of this before?"

Sam gave a rueful half-shrug. "No," he admitted.

Dean felt a sudden stab of shame for corrupting his younger brother like this. He sat up again. "You don't have to," he said.

Sam brushed his fingers down Dean's side and Dean sucked in a breath. "I want to," he said, sounding slightly surprised again.

Dean stifled the shame and lay back down. "Well, get on with it then, bitch," he said.

"Jerk," responded Sam automatically, bending down over Dean's chest and kissing the gap between his collarbones. Dean was taken back by the unexpected tenderness of the gesture, and for a moment couldn't find anything to say. Sam worked his mouth slowly along Dean's collarbone, kissing and occasionally nipping.

"Uh, Sam," he said after a moment, "I know it's your first time and all, but your mouth is meant to be lower."

"I'll get there," said Sam, "just want to taste you first." He licked a careful stripe back down Dean's collarbone and then bit gently at his throat.

"Oh," said Dean, feeling confused and incredibly turned on. Sam took his time about it, running his mouth slowly over Dean's chest, concentrating his attention on Dean's nipples and making him gasp at the rough texture of his tongue. Dean couldn't quite believe this was happening - it felt like one of his particularly girly daydreams.

By the time Sam got down to Dean's stomach, Dean was just about ready to start begging. Sam bit at his hip bones and Dean wondered if he had a biting thing, if he'd bite harder if Dean asked and leave marks that he'd been there, something that Dean could still see the next day. Sam kissed down Dean's thigh and then Dean felt a sudden, wet pressure on his balls and shuddered.

"Fuck, yes, Sammy," he moaned and he could feel Sam's grin against his skin, then Sam's mouth was engulfing his cock, and the only thing he could think was that it was Sam sucking him like that, running his tongue around the head of Dean's cock, applying the barest scrape of teeth and making Dean groan and lose all ability for logical thought. Dean opened his eyes and lifted his head, desperate to see Sam's head moving around his cock. The sight made his breath catch for a moment and he couldn't resist tangling his hands in Sam's hair, suddenly grateful for how long it was, so that he could clutch at it properly.

It was clear that Sam had been telling the truth when he'd said he'd never done this before - it was sloppy and wet and he gagged once or twice, pulling back quickly to stop himself choking, but Dean couldn't remember ever being turned on so much or so fast by anyone before, feeling his orgasm building almost embarrassingly quickly, especially after Sam brought his hand up to gently fondle Dean's balls. He couldn't hold his head up any longer and collapsed back, closing his eyes and concentrating on the waves of sensation flowing though his body and gathering at the base of his stomach.

"Sam, Sammy, don't ever stop," he heard himself gasp, "Fuck, Sammy."

Sam hummed gently around his cock, and the vibrations tipped him over the edge, pulling back on Sam's hair in warning before coming, the force of it rushing through him like a freight train. Sam took it all, swallowing quickly to stop himself choking, then sat back and looked at Dean, who barely had the energy to keep his eyes open enough to look back.

"Jesus, Dean," he said. His lips were red, almost bruised, and Dean wanted to kiss them to see if he could taste himself inside Sam's mouth, so he pushed himself up, trying to ignore how weak he felt. He drew Sam closer, kissing him with everything he had and trying to communicate how grateful he was that Sam was still here, still doing this.

Sam moaned into his mouth and wrapped his arms around Dean, holding their bodies so close together that Dean could feel Sam's erection pressing against him. He slipped his hand between them and grasped it tightly, making Sam moan again, this time with an edge of neediness. It barely seemed to take any time at all, Sam clinging to him and mouthing at his shoulder as Dean pumped his cock, fast and hard, just how he used to do it to himself in the shower every morning while thinking about Sam's huge hands and sinful mouth. When Sam came, he bit down hard on Dean's shoulder with a breathless groan and then just stayed there for a minute, all his weight leaning on Dean.

His breathing began to even out, and Dean could tell he was already falling into his usual post-coital slumber, so he shifted around and let him lie down on the bed, then went to wash the come off his hand and stomach.

When he came back, Sam was sprawled out over most of the bed, his limbs loose and relaxed, dead to the world. Dean just stared for a moment, then turned the light out and crawled in beside Sam, pulling the covers up over both of them. Sam shifted slightly in his sleep, throwing an arm over Dean and pressing his face against Dean's shoulder. Dean lay awake for a while, feeling Sam's breath on his skin and praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in and who certainly wouldn't want anything to do with this even if he did exist, praying that he'd be allowed to have this for just a little bit longer.

 


	7. Take What You Want

"Spread your legs further apart," hissed Sam into Dean's ear, his chest pressed close against Dean's back so that he could feel the warmth of his body through all the clothing layers that seperated them. He was holding Dean's wrists tightly in one hand, trapping them against the wall above Dean's head. Dean obediently shuffled his legs as far apart as he could, given the constriction of his jeans around his knees.

"Sam," he gasped as Sam ran his other hand down to his ass. Sam was desperate to get this part done with so that he could pound into Dean and feel him surround his cock, letting Sam own that part of him, if only for a few minutes.

Sam knew he was dangerously close to losing control and pushing too far, maybe even hurting Dean, but he couldn't stop himself, couldn't rein himself in, didn't even really understand what had made him snap like this.

 

****

 

They'd been interviewing a witness, trying to get her to tell them exactly what she'd seen in the woods the night her friend had died, just like they'd interviewed hundreds of women before. She'd clearly thought Dean was hot, so Sam had sat back and let Dean lead the questioning, same as he always did when there was a chance that they'd get the information just because Dean had flashed a grin, or allowed his eyes to linger appreciatively on a witness's curves.

 

****

 

Dean thrust back against Sam's hand, and Sam glanced around the washroom desperately for something he could use as lube. _We should carry it with us_ he thought, then had to quash the logical part of his brain, which told him he should be having less public sex with his brother, not planning how to make it easier to have more.

He spotted a dispenser of liquid soap by the sink, and after a moment's consideration, decided that it would do. After all, it wasn't his ass that was going to be filled with it.

"Don't move," he growled at Dean, who nodded, still facing the wall. Sam let go of his wrists long enough to grab the soap, and Dean didn't move, didn't even shift his arms so that he was more comfortable. Sam was impressed, and really, really turned on.

"Come on, Sam," said Dean, his voice hoarse, "What are you waiting for?"

Sam pressed his body close against Dean's, rubbing his erection against Dean's ass, wishing he'd already taken his jeans off so that he could feel more than the rough scrape of denim.

"God," Sam said, "you fucking love this, don't you?"

Dean didn't say anything, but he pressed back against Sam and did a little shimmy with his hips that made Sam suck in an urgent breath.

"I bet you'd even let me tie you up," continued Sam, and the image of Dean naked and tied down hit him at almost the same moment as Dean's groan. Suddenly talking seemed like a waste of time, and he fumbled to pump some of the soap out into his hand.

 

****

 

This time, though, Sam hadn't been able to handle Dean's casual flirting with the witness. For some reason, every leering look that Dean gave her, every cheesy compliment, made Sam more tense. It wasn't uncommon for Dean to take girls up on their unspoken invitations after this kind of interrogation after all, and suddenly the idea of Dean having sex with her, or with anyone else, was making him want to grab Dean and kiss him in front of everyone in the diner, establish once and for all that Dean was his.

It came completely out of the blue - Dean wasn't 'his' after all - they were brothers, even if they did have sex most nights and sleep in the same bed, usually ending up wrapped around each other in the morning.

It was about then that Sam had come to an uncomfortable realisation - there was more to this thing than being slightly-illegal fuck buddies. Since the freak out that had preceded the first time Dean had got them a double room, Sam had been carefully avoiding thinking about this too much, instead just sticking to Dean's mantra of 'if it feels good, do it' without wondering about why it felt good, or what it all meant.

Watching Dean flirt with the witness, Sam came face-to-face with the harsh truth that that wasn't going to cut it anymore. He was going to have to work out exactly what he was doing and what he wanted. First, though, he was going to show this woman that Dean was his, and he wasn't sharing.

 _Doesn't Dean get a say in that?_ asked the rational part of his brain, but it was drowned out by a sudden hot rush of rage as she put her hand on Dean's arm.

 

****

 

Sam wasn't going to waste any time, aware that the bathroom of the diner wasn't the best place for long and leisurely foreplay. Besides, he wasn't in the mood for it, he wanted in Dean, and he wanted it now, so he pressed inside Dean's ass with two fingers immediately.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll see stars," he promised him.

"Yeah," replied Dean, his voice low and rough as he rocked back against Sam's fingers. "Come on. I can take more."

Sam pulled his fingers out then pushed back inside with three, gripping Dean's wrists again with his other hand - probably too tightly, but he was long past caring, just wanting to bury himself in Dean and make sure Dean knew who he belonged to.

 _Wait,_ came the annoying voice in Sam's head that actually still seemed to be capable of logical thought. _Dean doesn't belong to anyone, certainly not his brother. You don't have any claim on him like that._ Sam gritted his teeth, wishing that wasn't true, but the fact remained that, however hard and fast he fucked Dean now, Dean wasn't his, not in the sense that he was rapidly realising he wanted him to be.

 _Jesus_ , he thought, pulling his fingers out of Dean, pulling down his pants roughly and slicking his hard cock up with the soap. _This just keeps getting more and more fucked up._ He pushed inside Dean as gently as he could when everything in him was screaming for him to just plunge in as hard and deep as possible. Dean dropped his head as if it was suddenly too heavy for him to hold up, and made a long, low sound that went straight to Sam's cock.

"Yeah, Sammy," he gasped, "Come on, make me feel it."

Sam took his advice, thrusting into him with a snap of his hips and clutching at Dean hard enough to leave bruises. Dean still had his hands pinned to the wall above his head, even as Sam set up a furious rhythm, driving into Dean with everything he had.

 _Mine_ thought a deep, animalistic part of his brain, but he corrected it. _No, not mine, but no one else's either._ Dean was rolling his hips back in time with Sam's thrusts now, he voice breaking on a rough litany of need.

"Yeah, harder, come on, Sam, fuck, Sammy."

Sam prised one of his hands away from Dean's hip and reached around to grasp at his cock, pulling on it hard and fast, trying to send Dean over the edge before he reached his own orgasm.

"Come on, Dean," he said, "Come for me."

"Yeah, god, yeah," groaned Dean, and then his whole body tensed and he came with a grunt of, "Sammy."

Sam grabbed Dean's hips again and started to thrust as hard as he could, desire rushing though him like a wave as he just gave in to the need that had been building for too long now. _Mine,_ whispered the voice again, and he could hardly concentrate enough to correct it. _No one else's._ Dean pushed back against his movement, still panting from his climax, and Sam felt himself come with a sudden rush, almost like falling. _No one else's,_ he thought again as it overtook him. He pulled out of Dean before he had even stopped shaking and spun him around, pushing him against the wall and kissing him hard.

"Yeah," said Dean when Sam finally stood back, feeling his limbs beginning to relax and become heavy. Dean was leaning all his weight back against the wall, his face flushed and his lower lip red where he'd bitten at it. "No one else. Just you, Sammy."

Sam blinked. _Oh shit, did I say that out loud?_ Dean grinned at him slowly, getting his breath back, and he looked so well fucked and happy that Sam just had to kiss him again. _He's not exactly freaking out,_ he pointed out to himself.

"No one else," he repeated, telling himself that soul-searching and over-analysing his sudden need to make Dean his could wait until later. Maybe after he'd had a nap - he was suddenly feeling inexplicably sleepy. Dean grinned smugly, then gently pushed Sam away.

"We need to get cleaned up before someone comes in here," he said, and Sam nodded, glancing around. He could feel lethargy setting in harder though, and doing anything other than finding somewhere to curl up and go to sleep seemed like way too much energy. Dean frowned at him slightly and sighed, then pulled Sam's jeans up, did them up for him and gave him the car keys.

"Go sleep it off in the car," he said in a resigned voice. "I'll deal with the girl and then be out in about five minutes, ok?"

Sam nodded, hoping he could make it out to the car before he fell asleep. He kissed Dean again, patting his arm slightly, then left the bathroom, ignoring the blatant stares from the other patrons. Well, he'd been less than subtle when he'd dragged Dean in there, and he doubted anyone was in any doubt as to what they'd been up to. He managed a tired wave and a small, slightly smug, smile to their witness. All his anger towards her had disappeared with Dean's quiet words, and now he just felt vaguely sorry for her, because she was never going to get to hear Dean's voice descend to the low register he used when Sam was buried inside him, or see Dean's face flushed with need, and so beautiful that Sam found it hard to believe it was real. _Beautiful?_ He thought, tiredly, _since when was my brother beautiful?_

He collapsed into the passenger seat of the Impala and settled down, his eyes closing almost immediately. Plenty of time to worry about Dean, and whatever he was or wasn't, later. By the time Dean slipped into the seat next to him, Sam was mainly asleep, although the opening and closing of the car door pulled him towards consciousness. Dean sat quietly for a few moments, then Sam felt the warmth of a hand on his leg for a second, before the engine started and the car pulled away.

 


	8. Give Everything You Have

 

Sam had been quiet all afternoon, staring blankly into space with a slight frown as they sat in the library researching the history of the Montford house. For the first time since he'd gone to Stanford and got Sam, Dean found himself doing most of the research, going through old newspapers and property deeds to trace the previous occupants. Whatever was holding Sam's attention, it wasn't the case, and Dean had a sneaking suspicion it might have something to do with the fingerprint-sized bruises on Dean's wrists.

Sam's sudden display of possessiveness and jealousy in the diner washroom had taken Dean completely by surprise, but he'd definitely enjoyed every moment of it. Having Sam growling in his ear that he was no one else's might not be hearts and candles, but it was exactly the kind of thing Dean had been wanting. Dean found himself replaying the words to himself, remembering Sam's exact tone and the way he'd clutched at Dean as if he wanted to keep him close forever.

And now Sam was freaking out about it - or, at least, thinking deep thoughts about it. Dean let him get on with it, hoping that whatever conclusions he came to wouldn't mean an end to the easy and relaxed way this thing had progressed since Sam's last emotional breakdown, but very aware of how little control he had over it. If Sam decided that it was a step too far and that it was time to stop this, Dean had no way to change his mind, no words that could persuade Sam to forget his reservations. Instead, he concentrated on the research, and let Sam work it out for himself.

It probably took Dean longer than it would have taken Sam, but he eventually found out that Evan Montford, who had built the house in 1826, had been murdered by the chambermaid in 1832. He looked up the burial records for that year, printed off a map to the tiny, long-abandoned cemetery where Evan had been buried, and then lightly smacked the back of Sam's preoccupied head. Sam started out of his reverie with a jerk.

"Come on, daydreamer, we're done here," he said, standing up and stretching. Sam blinked as if still deep in thought, then stood up and followed him out of the library.

"Sorry," he apologised, but Dean waved it off. "Did you get what we need?"

"Yep," said Dean with satisfaction as they reached the Impala. "Tonight we're going to dig up and burn the corpse of Evan Montford, and then we're crossing our fingers and hoping like hell that there are no more dead chicks."

"Oh, good," said Sam, still sounding distracted. He frowned slightly as they got in the car. "So what are we going to do until then?"

Dean smirked and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Sam rolled his eyes, but grinned as well.

"And," pointed out Dean, "we even have time for you to fall asleep afterwards." He started the engine and headed for the motel, trying to resist tapping on the steering wheel. Clearly whatever was bugging Sam didn't mean he'd changed his mind about this yet.

Sam was silent for a few minutes, then cleared his throat. "Can we...will you fuck me this time?"

Dean almost drove off the road. "What?!"

Sam shrugged and looked away. "If you want."

"Jesus, Sam." Dean pushed down harder on the accelerator. "Of course I do." He wondered how fast he could go without attracting the attention of the cops. "What's brought this on?"

He saw Sam shrug out of the corner of his eye. "I just wondered what it was like. I...you always seem to like it."

"Damn straight I do," said Dean. How far away was their motel anyway? His brain caught up with ears. "Wait, you've never..."

Sam shook his head. "You know most of this stuff is new to me," he said, sounding faintly embarrassed.

The motel finally came into sight. "You're going to love it," promised Dean, firmly.

Sam smiled as Dean pulled into the parking lot with a squeal of brakes. "Yeah," he said. "There's no one else I'd rather do this with."

Dean turned the engine off and grinned back at him. "I'm going to blow your mind," he said.

Sam laughed, but got out of the car. "I can't believe lines like that actually get you anywhere."

Dean gave a half-shrug, already fumbling for the room key in his pocket. He couldn't concentrate on witty banter when half his mind was chanting _I'm gonna fuck Sam, I'm gonna fuck Sam,_ and the other half was whispering _Sammy's going to let me fuck him_. Dean wasn't stupid and he knew his brother. Sam was probably only suggesting this now as an apology for his rough treatment earlier, but that wasn't going to stop Dean from showing him that this wasn't about Sam giving Dean something. It was about Dean doing something for Sam, being the first person to show him how amazing this could be. ( _And the last_ growled a possessive voice in his head.) They could work on why Sam had nothing to apologise for later.

When they got inside the room, Dean stripped his jacket off and dumped it on the chair, then turned to see Sam hovering uncertainly by the door. It was the first time Sam had looked unsure about this since he'd taken confident control of Dean's private dildo time and Dean was slightly taken back.

Sam gave a rueful smile, acknowledging his own sudden shyness. "I should take my clothes off, right?"

He started to pull off his hoodie as Dean blinked back his surprise, then crossed the room again in order to kiss Sam, taking him by surprise. Dean put everything he could into the kiss, trying to remind Sam that he knew how to do this, that it was no different than any other time they'd had sex. Sam responded eagerly, pulling Dean to him and taking control. Dean let him, running his hands under Sam's t-shirt and up his warm back as Sam gently put one hand on Dean's jaw, holding his face steady as his tongue thoroughly explored Dean's mouth.

Sam pulled back and rested his forehead against Dean's. "Okay," he said, sounding a lot more confident and self-assured. "You take my clothes off."

Dean grinned - that was more like it - and wasted no time in stripping off Sam's t-shirt before dropping his hands to Sam's waist and ripping open his flies, pulling down his pants before Sam had even had a chance to kick his shoes off.

"Hang on, gimme a minute," said Sam, laughing. Dean stepped back and concentrated on removing his own clothes while Sam got rid of the tangle of jeans, boxers and sneakers caught around his feet. Dean bent down to take off his own boots, then pulled his shirt off over the top of his head. When he looked up, Sam was completely naked, and staring at him with hot eyes.

Dean's mouth dried at the sight of his brother's body and the look on his face, and he decided that what he really, really needed was something in it. He dropped to his knees and engulfed Sam's cock, only half-hearing Sam's gasp of pleasure and surprise. His hands found their way almost automatically to Sam's hips and he felt Sam grab his hair as he ran his tongue along the length of Sam's cock and sucked. He still couldn't get used to being able to have Sam like this, every part of him so close and real, his loud, harsh breaths filling Dean's ears, the weight of his hands on Dean's head holding him close and the taste of Sam flooding his mouth, all of it just overwhelming Dean's senses until there was nothing in the world but Sam.

Sam pulled him away when Dean teased him with the barest touch of teeth, gasping out in a choked voice, "Too much...don't wanna finish like this."

Dean stood up, his knees already feeling weak, and Sam attacked his mouth, pushing him backwards towards the bed and pulling at Dean's pants.

"You're going to fuck me," he said as Dean felt the bed against the back of his legs.

"Fuck, yeah," gasped Dean as he sat down and Sam tore his jeans off.

"You're going to do it properly," continued Sam, crawling onto the bed and up Dean's body. "You're going to show me exactly what it feels like when you have that," he paused to kiss Dean, "that blissed out look of pleasure."

"Yeah, okay," agreed Dean breathlessly. He hooked his legs around Sam's and flipped them so that he was on top. "I'm gonna make you feel so good."

"Go on then," grinned Sam, and it sounded like a challenge. Dean smirked and knelt up, looking down at Sam's body and wondering how he'd ever deserved this.

"Turn over," he said and Sam did, giving Dean the chance to enjoy the view of his broad shoulders and muscular back, tapering to his waist. He ran a hand down it slowly to Sam's ass, gently caressing his buttock.

"Lube's in the drawer," said Sam.

"I know," said Dean. "I'll get it later." He bent down and kissed Sam's back, then carefully licked down his spine, tasting the salt of his skin. He continued down Sam's ass and felt Sam tense with surprise.

"Dean..." he said, sounding uncertain. Dean grinned to himself then carefully circled Sam's ring of muscle with his tongue before pushing inside.

"Oh," gasped Sam, surprised, but he didn't sound like he didn't like it, so Dean pressed inside further, flicking his tongue.

"Oh," said Sam again, but this time it was a long drawn out moan of pleasure. Dean took that as permission to really go for it, trying every trick he could think of while Sam groaned and started to push back against his mouth. This felt more intimate than anything they'd done before, Sam so close, and real and _there_ , just letting Dean taste him like this, letting Dean pull those desperate, needy noises from him with his tongue.

"Fuck, Dean," Sam moaned, sounding closer to the edge than Dean had intended, so he pulled away, one hand still stroking down his hip, feeling the sharp edge of his hipbone just beneath his smooth skin.

"You're going to do that again sometime," said Sam as he started to get his breath back.

Dean laughed. "Sure," he said equably, "if you want." He ran his finger down Sam's spine, along the same path his tongue had taken, feeling the spit-slick opening and the way Sam shivered at his touch.

"We need that lube now," said Sam.

"Yeah," agreed Dean, but he didn't reach for it immediately, too busy staring at Sam's body and trying to shake off the persistent feeling of wondering disbelief that Sam was letting him do this.

"Dean," growled Sam impatiently and Dean pulled himself together and opened the bedside table drawer to take out the lube, keeping one hand on Sam's ass as if he might disappear or change his mind if Dean stopped touching him. He felt Sam tense up slightly when he heard Dean open the lube, and he stroked his hand over Sam's skin. Sam didn't really relax, but he did let out a gentle exhale of breath, and that was good enough for Dean. He squeezed some lube out onto a finger and then slowly circled Sam's hole again.

"Get on with it," demanded Sam, beginning to sound as if he was losing patience, and Dean pushed inside, past the first tight ring of muscle. Sam exhaled again and Dean could feel his muscles twitching at the invasion, unsure yet if this was a good thing or not. Dean worked his finger carefully, determined not to go too fast, until he crooked his finger at just the right angle and Sam let out a surprised gasp.

"Do that again," he commanded, and Dean was happy to comply, rubbing over that point until Sam was breathless and groaning softly to himself.

When Dean pulled his finger out, Sam gave a little moan of need, which was followed by a deep, throaty groan as Dean pressed back inside with two fingers. Every noise Sam made, every ragged breath, was making Dean harder and harder. He wanted to tape them all so that he'd have a permanent record that this was real, that he'd made Sam sound like this.

Sam was pushing back onto his fingers now, trying to force them in even deeper, and Dean took that as a sign to add another. He was probably dragging this out way more than it needed to be, but it seemed like too good an opportunity to waste. Who knew if he'd ever get to feel Sam tight and hot around his fingers again? If anything was going to prompt the realisation that this was too fucked up, even for Winchesters, surely being fucked by your older brother would be it? This could easily be the thing that made Sam come to his senses and run back to Stanford, back to normal and safe and not having to rationalise an incestuous sexual relationship. Dean couldn't stop himself from taking advantage of Sam's willingness, though, even if it ended with him gone in the morning. All he could do was enjoy every moment that Sam was still here, and make this last as long as possible, even if Dean's own cock was screaming at him to just get on with it and bury himself in Sam already.

"Dean," started Sam, sounding as if he was about to make another demand, but when Dean moved his fingers just so, he seemed to lose his train of thought and just trailed off into a groan. Dean smirked and did it again, and Sam made the best noise yet, desperate and almost pained, and rocked back hard against Dean's hand.

"Dean, you've got to fuck me," he said in a low, frantic voice. "Right now." Dean hesitated for a split second, but he couldn't hold off any longer, not when his whole body agreed with Sam's desperate words.

When he finally sank inside Sam, it was better than anything he'd ever imagined - Sam was so tight and hot that he thought he was going to blow his load immediately, and had to stop and take several deep breaths. _For Sam,_ he reminded himself. _Gonna make him feel amazing._

"Fuck me already," growled Sam and like all his orders during sex, Dean felt it go straight to his cock and obeyed without thinking about it, thrusting into Sam slowly at first, then picking up the pace when he hit that magic spot inside Sam, making Sam swear hoarsely and push back with frantic movements.

"Touch me," he hissed and Dean grasped his cock and tried to pull his mind together enough to coordinate his strokes with the rhythm of their movement. It felt like everything else in the world had disappeared until there was only this, only him and Sam, and the way it felt to be so deep inside his brother, to have this part of him that no one else had ever had. He couldn't hear the traffic on the highway anymore, only Sam's ragged breaths and the sound of their bodies moving together.

"Jesus fuck, Dean," gasped Sam, and came all over his hand with a sudden, almost fierce, jerk of his hips. Dean took that as a signal to let himself go, and it was only a couple of hard thrusts later when he came as well, panting out Sam's name.

He didn't want to pull out of Sam, wanted to stay locked inside him forever, but even in a post-orgasmic haze common sense prevailed, so he gently prised himself away from Sam and collapsed beside him. Sam turned over and pulled Dean to him, wrapping long limbs around him like an octopus.

"That was...thank you," he said, and Dean thought about protesting the manhandling, but couldn't raise the willpower.

"No problem," he said instead. He hesitated for a moment, but he was too relaxed and open to try to hold his most immediate thought in. "You gonna freak out about this tomorrow?"

Sam smiled at him, and for the first time Dean thought he could see something more in his eyes than just gratitude for a good fuck, but he dismissed it. This wasn't like that - not for Sam, anyway.

"No," said Sam, tucking his head down on to Dean's shoulder. "Might want to do it again though," he said, his voice already slurring with sleep.

Well, hell, Dean could definitely go with that plan. He glanced at the clock. They still had a good few hours before it would be late enough to dig up a grave, so he shut his eyes and let Sam's slow, even breathing pull him down into sleep as well.

 


	9. Analyse Every Detail

Sam had a Plan. He'd thought about it a lot, given it the same level of concentration that he used to give his finals' assignments, and he was convinced it was fool-proof. Of course, that never seemed to stop Winchesters from royally fucking up a plan before, but he was confident this one would succeed. He wanted it too much for it not to.

He hadn't been able to write down any notes like he usually did, in case Dean found them, but that hadn't stopped him from keeping a mental list, one that he'd checked through several times on long journeys just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. When he'd decided that it was perfectly polished, he'd just had to wait until the right time and place to carry it out.

They'd killed the Hodag last night without injuries for either of them (well, except for the bruising of Dean's upper arm when a branch that Sam had pushed aside flicked back and hit him, but given that the last time they'd gone up against a Hodag Dean had ended up with broken ribs, they were doing pretty well) and Sam had noticed a place that sold exactly what he was looking for as they drove back to the motel. He'd said nothing, of course - part one of The Plan involved keeping Dean in the dark until the absolute last possible moment - but he might have smirked a bit, and thought smugly, _I love it when a plan comes together._

Dean had given him a faintly suspicious look, until Sam said, casually, "You know, I feel really bad about hurting your arm like that. How about I make it up to you when we get back to the motel?" He'd tried out one of Dean's most suggestive and leering looks, and felt even smugger when Dean's pupils had dilated and he'd put his foot down on the gas pedal a bit harder.

 

****

 

 

Dean was still asleep when Sam woke up that morning, and Sam smiled at the ceiling for a moment, feeling excitement rise in his stomach when he thought about how close he was to achieving his goal. Dean tended to hold on tightly to Sam when he slept, and it took some skill for Sam to wriggle out of his embrace without waking him. When he'd managed it, Dean cuddled into the warm spot he'd had left behind and Sam was very tempted just to crawl back in next to him and leave The Plan for another day.

 _No_ , he though firmly. _This is going to be awesome._ He pulled on his clothes, moving carefully so as not to wake Dean, and then slipped out of the motel room. As he walked, he realised that he'd not even had a twinge of the old _we shouldn't be doing this_ that had used to hit whenever he woke up with Dean curled up around him. _Another step down the slippery slope_ , he thought, but couldn't bring himself to feel regret.

Gradually, over the last few weeks, he'd just given in to this thing. There was no way he could chalk it up to horniness, experimentation and too much time in close proximity now, not when just being around Dean was enough to make him feel strangely content. It felt a bit like it was all getting out of control, and The Plan was definitely not going to help him get a handle on it again, but it was all too good to stop. Besides, Sam thought he was finally managing to gain an understanding of parts of Dean that had always confused him, and that was too good to pass up just because he was scared of the consequences of this thing, whatever it was.

The coffee shop was already open, and Sam resisted the temptation to bounce with excitement as the waitress made up his order. He got a bag full of doughnuts as well, for afterwards, then walked back to the motel, hoping that Dean hadn't woken up yet.

 

 

****

 

 

 

He hadn't, but he did when Sam came in and shut the door, his eyes lazily blinking against the light, and he smiled when he saw the bag of doughnuts. Sam couldn't stop himself from smiling back.

"If any of those are apple," Dean mumbled sleepily, "you'll totally have made up for ripping my Maiden t-shirt."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I was nine," he pointed out defensively, putting the bag down and then going over to his bag to start Part B of The Plan, "and they're for after."

Dean twitched an eyebrow. "After?"

Sam was suddenly nervous. This was where The Plan could go wrong, where he could have made a big mistake, and Dean would say no, think he was a freak, maybe even leave. Sam took a deep breath, reminded himself that he'd done his research, and pulled the rope out of his bag. He turned back to Dean and smirked at him to cover his nerves. "After I've tied you up and had my wicked way with you."

For a moment, Dean just stared at him, then at the rope, and Sam thought he'd got this wrong despite Dean's reaction the last time he'd mention this, or his tendency to get hard whenever Sam held him down, even if it was just while they were wrestling (not that that didn't turn into sex more often than not these days.) His fears were laid to rest when Dean made a deep, inarticulate noise and grinned.

"Yeah," he said, "I reckon I can wait for doughnuts."

Sam smiled back, and walked over to the bed, where he straddled his brother's body. "Hands up," he said, and when Dean instantly complied, he felt the rush of heat that always accompanied Dean obeying one of his orders during sex. He tied Dean's wrists to the headboard tightly enough so that he wouldn't just be able to get out of it, and then moved down his body. Dean tested the rope carefully, but didn't say anything. He was staring at Sam with a mixture of disbelief and arousal, and Sam was tempted to just abandon the rest of The Plan and fuck Dean now, sink into him and thrust hard enough to make Dean scream. _No, first I'm going to make him beg,_ he reminded himself.

Sam pulled the sheet that covered Dean's body off and threw it on the floor. Dean had been sleeping naked, and Sam sat back a little to take in the view that was spread out in front of him.

Dean smirked, and shifted his hips suggestively. "Like what you see?"

Sam took in Dean's body with a long glance and felt his mouth go dry. "It's okay," he said, trying to sound disparaging rather than feeding Dean's ego more, but from the look of Dean's smug expression, he wasn't fooling anyone. Well, he'd just have to wipe that look off Dean's face some other way.

He bent down and licked Dean's collarbone, then bit gently at it. He felt Dean squirm slightly beneath him, so he bit down again, pressing his teeth in with more force. Dean made a hoarse sound in the back of his throat, and Sam wondered just how hard was too hard to bite him. He mouthed his way up Dean's neck, nipped at his jaw, and then kissed him, long and slightly sloppy, taking his time to taste all of Dean now that there was no way Dean could pull away. Dean moaned softly into his mouth, and Sam felt him tugging at the ropes, so he pulled away.

"No," he said, "No trying to touch - you're just going to stay like that until I let you go."

"Fuck," hissed Dean, and Sam felt his hips twitch upwards, but his arms stopped straining at the ropes, and Sam smiled. He bent down to kiss Dean again, nibbling and sucking at his lower lip until it was red and swollen, then sat up and climbed off the bed. Dean made a displeased noise, but didn't say anything. Sam pulled off his clothes quickly, too desperate to get to Part C of The Plan to give Dean a show, but from the way Dean's eyes devoured his body, it seemed that he wasn't going to complain. Sam crossed over to the desk and opened the bag he'd got from the coffee shop.

Dean groaned with frustration. "I thought you said the doughnuts were for later."

"They are," said Sam. He pulled his other purchase out of the bag, and turned around to show Dean. "Do you know what this is?"

Dean squinted at it. "Something that doesn't matter because it's not getting me laid," he growled.

Sam grinned. "Who said it wasn't going to get you laid?" Dean's eyes narrowed, and Sam moved back towards the bed, suddenly realising that Dean was naked and all tied up for him and he hadn't touched him for nearly a minute. He put the cup on the bedside table, and then leant down to taste Dean's mouth again. He pressed his body close to Dean's, feeling their naked skin sliding together and rubbed a hand down Dean's chest to his stomach.

"Sammy," Dean breathed out against his mouth, and Sam let his hand creep lower, brushing his fingertips down Dean's stomach until he was touching coarse, dark hair. He paused then, and Dean tried to shift so that Sam's hand crept low enough to touch his cock. _The Plan_ , Sam reminded himself, and pulled his hand away. Dean gave another frustrated groan. Sam just smirked and picked up the cup from the bedside table.

"This," he announced, holding it up so Dean could see it, "is an Oreo milkshake."

Dean squinted at the cup, then just blinked at Sam. "What the fuck kind of girly shit is that?" he growled.

Sam twitched an eyebrow. "So, you'd have no interest in me smothering you in this 'girly shit' and then licking it off you?"

"Huh," said Dean, looking back at the cup with slightly more interest. "Guess that depends on how cold it is," but Sam had felt his cock twitch and knew he'd already won this one.

He kissed Dean again, taking advantage of the fact that he could, that Dean couldn't stop him from taking his time with this. _We're going to have to do this again,_ he decided. Having Dean at his mercy was much too much fun for this to just be a one time thing.

He pulled the lid off the cup and put it on the bedside table, then dipped his finger into the milkshake and sucked it clean. Yeah, it still tasted as good as he remembered. Now to find out what it tasted like mixed with the flavour of Dean's skin.

He dipped his finger back in, and then painted a stripe across Dean's chest. Dean shivered, but Sam didn't think it was because of the temperature of the milkshake. He bent down and licked it up carefully. It tasted amazing - sweet and creamy laid over the musky saltiness of Dean, and he congratulated himself on a good idea while simultaneously wondering what the best way to cover all of Dean with it was. His planning had ended at this point, mainly because every time he tried to think about it, he found himself achingly hard and craving Oreo milkshake. Neither of those was particularly conducive to making cunning plans.

He scooped out more milkshake, using several fingers this time, and rubbed it over as much of Dean's chest as he could. Dean growled slightly, and Sam met his dark, passion-filled gaze for a moment before leaning down to clean it all off with long, slow licks.

Dean shivered beneath his mouth, hips twitching upwards. Sam could feel Dean's erection pressing against his ass where he was straddling him, and he wondered what Dean's cock would taste like smothered in milkshake.

He finished his clean-up of Dean's chest, lingering carefully over his nipples - just to make sure there wasn't a trace left, of course; it had nothing to do with the bitten-off moan Dean gave when Sam gently dragged his teeth over them.

"Jesus, Sam," said Dean breathlessly, sounding more than a little desperate. Sam thought he might deserve a reward for lying so still and sounding so hot while Sam tasted him, so he coated his finger in milkshake again and offered it to Dean. Dean immediately sucked it in with more force than was necessary, hollowing his cheeks and fixing his eyes on Sam.

"Fuck," muttered Sam. If Dean kept doing that, this was going to last no time at all, and that was really not part of The Plan. He pulled his finger out of Dean's mouth, letting it linger for a moment on his lower lip.

"Sammy, let me...I want to suck you," said Dean, then curled his tongue around Sam's finger. Sam shuddered and was very tempted for a moment, before he remembered that he still had half a cup of milkshake, and several important parts of Dean that he hadn't tasted yet.

"Too bad you're all tied up then," he replied, trying to sound smooth but his voice was too hoarse with need to pull it off. He moved down Dean's body so that he was straddling his legs instead of his body. "Guess I'll just have to suck you instead."

"Well, if you must," said Dean, but his voice didn't sound very steady either. His cock was curving up towards his stomach, and Sam regarded it for a long moment, wondering what the best way to coat it in milkshake would be. In the end, he just mentally sacrificed the sheets and carefully poured milkshake over Dean, liquid spilling all down his navel and thighs as well as his cock. Dean swore as it hit him, jerking his body in surprise at the sudden cold. Sam grinned, put the cup down, and set to licking every trace away, starting with the rivulets dripping down Dean's skin onto the bed.

It only took a few minutes for Dean to become a writhing, moaning mess, a stream of curse words and Sam's name pouring from him, as well as pleas disguised as demands for Sam to "Fuck me, suck me properly, stop fucking teasing already, anything, please, Sam. Fuck, Sammy."

Sam smiled to himself and slowly chased the taste of Oreo down the curve of Dean's hip and around his balls, stroking over them with the faintest touch before circling back around his cock to trace a path up his other hip. The frustrated noise Dean made sounded almost painful, so Sam took pity on him and sucked gently on one of his balls. Sam had to hold Dean's hips down to stop him thrusting up, and he wondered if next time he should tie Dean's legs down as well.

 _But then you wouldn't be able to bend him in half and fuck him into the mattress,_ pointed out the voice in his head, and Sam had to stop and take a deep breath at the mental image.

The pause allowed Dean to pull himself together enough to get out a coherent sentence. "Sam, you better stop that shit and get serious soon."

If Sam had been less turned on, he might have laughed at the desperation in Dean's voice, or at least smirked and teased him some more, but his own erection was painfully hard and he desperately wanted to get to the next part of The Plan.

He licked up the underside of Dean's cock, fast and hard, then sucked fiercely on the head of it. Dean made a deep, guttural sound, but Sam was already moving on, slipping his arms underneath Dean's thighs so that he could bend his legs up and gain access to Dean's ass. He licked down it, barely hearing Dean's choked 'Fuck' as he realised what was coming next. Sam wasn't in the mood for any more games, so he just burrowed his tongue straight inside Dean, making his whole body jolt as he pressed it against tight muscle as far as he could, still tasting the heady mixture of Dean and milkshake.

He could feel Dean's legs shaking with tension where he was holding them up, feel his whole body straining towards Sam's tongue, pulling against the ropes that bound his wrists, and he knew that Dean was close to the edge.

"Sam, Sammy, you gotta...Sammy, you gotta fuck me," he gasped, "Now, you have to...I don't wanna come without you inside me."

Sam pulled his tongue out of Dean and growled, "Don't even think about it. I'm going to fuck you so you'll be feeling it all tomorrow, and you're not going to come until I tell you you can."

"Fuck," breathed out Dean, his voice unnaturally high. "Then you better get on with it already."

Sam pulled back further and reached for the lube on the bedside table, slicking his cock and Dean's ass quickly before shifting Dean's hips and bending his legs up further. Dean just lay there and let Sam manhandle him into position, eyes so dark with arousal that he almost looked possessed. Sam paused for a moment, wanting to fix the look on Dean's face in his memory so that if this ever went sour or stopped working for them, he'd be able to remember this moment, when fucking his brother felt like the most right, the most perfect thing in the world.

"Come on," gritted out Dean, and Sam pushed inside with one long, slow movement, watching Dean's face as his eyes closed and his mouth fell open at the sensation. He didn't think he'd ever be tired of seeing his brother like this, spread out and wanting, desperate for Sam and so turned on that the usual mask he wore had fallen away.

He couldn't keep a rein on his own need any more, and he fucked Dean with fast, strong movements, angling up until he was hitting that sweet spot every time and Dean was babbling nonsense again. Everything narrowed down to the feel of Dean, tight around his cock; the way Dean's hands were clenched into fists, tendons standing out from his wrists underneath the rope; Dean's voice, babbling nonsense that neither of them were really hearing; and the rich taste of milkshake and Dean, still sharp in his mouth.

Sam came with a rush, pounding hard into Dean, and for a moment he swore he saw stars. He came back to himself in time to feel Dean spasm with need.

"You gotta let me," choked Dean, "I'm gonna die, you gotta let me."

"Yeah," gasped Sam, "You can, Dean, come for me." He reached for Dean's cock, but he barely had time to touch it before every muscle in Dean's body tensed and he came so hard it must have been painful, grunting Sam's name and screwing his eyes shut. Sam had never seen anything so beautiful.

He managed to coordinate his limbs enough to pull away from Dean and let his legs drop before collapsing next to him on the bed, grimacing slightly at the milkshake puddle he ended up lying in, but too wrung out to shift further away.

"Dude," said Dean, after a quiet moment, "Untie me." Sam thought about the effort it would take to pull apart the knots around Dean's wrists, and didn't move.

"Seriously," said Dean, "if you even think about going to sleep and leaving me like this, Nair in your shampoo will be the least of your problems."

Sam sighed with resignation and sat up enough to start working on the knots. "You're such a pain in the ass," he grumbled.

Dean snorted. "You're not the one with an incredibly gross mixture of milkshake, come and lube dripping out your ass," he said. "I seriously need a shower."

Sam pulled the last knot undone, then lay back down on the bed, slinging one arm across Dean's chest. "Later," he mumbled. "Nap with me first."

Dean gave a put upon sigh. "You're such a girl," he said, but he didn't pull away, and as Sam dropped off to sleep, he was sure he felt Dean turn towards him.

 

****

 

When Sam woke up a couple of hours later, they were lying in a sticky mess of milkshake, come and sweat, and the sheets were probably never going to be the same again, but there was a shower big enough for two, and a bag of doughnuts, and Dean to share both with, so he didn't feel he could complain.

 


	10. Feel Every Moment

 

It was ridiculously hot, and the air con was managing little more than a lukewarm wheeze. Dean had long ago abandoned his self-appointed task of cleaning the guns and stripped down to his underwear, lying spread eagle on the bed in the faint hope that it would keep him slightly cooler. He listened to Sam's footsteps come down the porch towards their room then pause outside the door, but he couldn't find the energy to move in response. There was a jingle of a key and the door opened, letting in bright sunlight and a wave of warm air.

Sam looked even hotter than Dean felt, sweat soaking through his t-shirt and making his hair damply clump together. "It should be illegal to have no air-con in a library," he bitched, then his eyes took in Dean with a long, slow look, and Dean could almost see his brain stalling at the sight. Dean smirked with satisfaction and resisted the temptation to flex his stomach muscles slightly, but when Sam took a step towards the bed with lustful intention in his eyes, Dean slapped on a frown instead.

"No," he said, firmly, "it's way too hot for anything like that."

Sam halted in surprise. "The Great Dean Winchester is saying no to sex?"

"Hey!" said Dean, slighted, "I say no to sex all the time. Last night to that barmaid, for example."

"You don't say no to sex with me," Sam said, entirely too smug.

Well, okay, maybe Dean had to admit that was true. But then, he'd never been able to say no to Sam, and this thing between them felt too fragile to risk letting Sam have time to think about it, coming to his senses and calling a halt to it, or taking off. Still, there had to be a line drawn somewhere, right?

"Sam, I'm so hot I wouldn't be surprised if I spontaneously combusted, and you look even worse. You lay one finger on me, and we're both gonna melt."

Sam pouted, but he conceded to Dean's logic and headed for the bathroom instead. "Fine, then I'm gonna have a shower. Alone."

"Good luck finding any cool water," said Dean. Sam just waved a tired hand at him and shut the door behind himself. Dean was slightly annoyed by that - just because he was too hot for sex didn't mean he didn't want to ogle his brother's body while it was all wet and soaped up. He briefly thought about getting up and joining Sam, but the water had been body temperature half an hour ago when he'd attempted to cool down in there, and he couldn't face moving for anything that wasn't going to cool him down enough for him to let Sam heat him back up again.

When Sam came out fifteen minutes later, he hadn't bothered to put most of his clothes back on, and Dean had his own brain-stalling moment of gazing at his brother's semi-naked body. Sam dropped his bundle of clothes on the floor, then stood at the foot of the bed.

"If I promise not to touch, will you at least shift over so that I can lie down?" he asked plaintively.

Dean obligingly moved over so that Sam had enough space to lie down and even kept his annoyance at the inconvenience to a testy sigh, because he was an awesome brother. Sam collapsed onto the bed with a quiet groan, then wriggled until he was spread out on his back in a mirror image of Dean's position. He carefully avoided touching Dean at all, but his hand ended up barely an inch away from Dean's, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off his fingers. Dean didn't complain.

"Found the grave," announced Sam after a few moments.

"So tonight we get to dig it up in ninety degree heat?" asked Dean. There was silence again as they both contemplated this. "That's gonna suck," added Dean eventually.

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

There was another silence and Dean found his eyes growing heavy. A nap right now didn't seem like such a bad idea - maybe when he woke up, it would be cool enough for him to take advantage of Sam's semi-clothed state.

"Do you know what...?" started Sam, then trailed off.

Dean sighed and opened his eyes. Apparently Sam wasn't on the same page with the nap plan.

"What?" he asked, maybe slightly aggressively.

"Nothing," said Sam quickly, but Dean wasn't fooled.

"Sam," he growled, hoping to get this out and over with so he could have his nap after all.

Sam sighed in defeat. "It's been six months," he said quietly.

Dean blinked. "Since what?"

"Since..." Sam paused, searching for words. "Since we first...fucked."

Oh.

Had it really been that long? It barely felt like more than a day since Dean had opened his eyes to see Sam frozen in the doorway, staring with wide eyes at the dildo. Every moment since then, he'd been waiting for Sam to wake up to what a mistake he was making, but...six months was a long time, especially for Winchesters.

"Huh," Dean said, as he took that on board. _Maybe Sam won’t leave, and I'll get to have this. We'll get to have this._

"That's it?" asked Sam, slightly incredulously, half sitting up to look at Dean's face.

"What?" Dean frowned. "Was I meant to get you flowers?"

Sam rolled his eyes and lay back down. "I thought you'd at least call me a girl for knowing that."

Dean shrugged. "Well, we both already know you're a girl. There's no need to point it out all the time."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, I'm such a girl that my dick's spent a significant amount of the last six months up your ass."

Dean was too hot and lazy to react to that. Besides, it was true, and it had been awesome, and he really wasn't going to complain. "Guess I'm just a giver," he said with satisfaction.

"Yeah?" said Sam, in a different, lower tone of voice. He propped himself up on one arm again and gave Dean a look that sent all his blood rushing south. "And what else are you going to give me?"

 _Everything,_ prompted the annoyingly girly voice in the back of Dean's head. "I think there's half a packet of M &Ms in my coat pocket," he replied instead.

Sam didn't seem to be listening though, still gazing at Dean with a look that raised the temperature by several unbearable degrees. He slowly stretched out his hand and ran his finger carefully down the centre of Dean's chest.

Dean felt his blood heating up. "Sam," he said, intending it more as a warning, but it came out more like an invocation.

"I'm not gonna make you hotter," promised Sam.

"You already are," pointed out Dean, "just by looking."

Sam smiled with the trace of a smirk. "Well, doesn't matter if I touch a little as well then," he said, and his finger traced a path lower, down Dean's stomach.

Dean was about to protest, he really was, the words were right on the tip of his tongue, then Sam said, slightly dreamily, "I wonder how little I have to be touching you to make you come," and all Dean's objections and his intention to try and keep cool was lost in a rush of desire.

Sam's finger continued its journey lower and lower, until Dean was holding in his breath and could feel tingling all over his skin. Sam's eyes followed his hand with careful fascination and when he reached the waistband of Dean's boxers, he looked up at Dean's face, unmistakably pleading to be allowed to go further. Dean couldn't imagine ever saying no to that look, especially not with every molecule of his body feeling super-charged with anticipation, so he nodded his agreement.

Sam's face lit up with a wide smile, then he sat up further so that he could slowly peel Dean's boxers off, taking care to touch his skin as little as possible.

When he'd pulled them off and flicked them to the floor, he sat back and stared at Dean again, until Dean was itching with self-consciousness and desperate for Sam's touch, however hot it made him. He sat up and reached out for Sam, wanting to strip off his underwear as well, but Sam put his palm flat against Dean's chest and pushed him back down.

"I thought you were too hot to move," he said, and that was definitely a smirk now. "You're just going to lie there and let me do this."

Dean gritted his teeth in frustration, but relaxed into the mattress, steeling himself not to move, regardless of whatever Sam did, however tempting he looked with that expression on his face that said, _I've got you exactly where I want you_ ; smug and possessive, and his golden skin was gleaming slightly with sweat. Dean wanted to lick it all up, taste the salt on his neck and bite at his jaw, wanted to taste him all over until he was gasping and squirming.

Dean took a deep breath and just lay still, trying not to give away how turned on he was when Sam trailed his hand back down Dean's body. His fingertips brushed over Dean's stomach and Dean sucked in a breath, every part of him concentrating on the feel of Sam's touch. Sam's fingers crept lower and lower until they were brushing through dark wiry hair, just to the left of Dean's erection. Dean could barely breathe with anticipation, and when Sam finally touched his cock, just one finger tracing the vein up the underside of it, he made a choking, needy noise that he immediately resolved to deny under pain of death.

"You're going to need to touch me more than that," he said, trying to sound demanding. The look Sam gave him told him he'd failed.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to get too hot," said Sam. Dean, who felt as if his whole body was on the verge of a meltdown, glared at him. Sam ignored him and circled his finger around the head of Dean's cock, then teased at the slit, gathering up a drop of precome and rubbing it into Dean's skin. Dean heard himself make another embarrassing noise and shut his eyes, arching his head back and thrusting his hips up slightly, trying to get closer to Sam's touch.

He heard a huff of amused breath, then Sam finally stopped teasing and slid his fingers around Dean's cock, squeezing it hard enough to make Dean suck in a sudden rush of air, before beginning to pump it in a steady rhythm.

"Open your eyes," said Sam, softly. Dean did and the only thing he could focus on was Sam's face. He was staring at Dean with an expression that threatened to scramble Dean's mind far more than the hand on his cock. He looked completely riveted by Dean; something in his eyes that Dean was afraid to identify. It was captivating, and Dean didn't look away, barely even blinked as Sam's hand sped up and grasped him tighter. Sam didn't look away either, and with their eyes locked, Dean felt closer to Sam than he could ever remember being, even if the only place they were touching was Sam's hand on Dean's cock.

Sam twisted his wrist slightly, and flicked his thumb across the head of Dean's dick, and just like that Dean was groaning, "Sammy," and coming, shutting his eyes again as he rode it out.

When he opened them again, Sam had let go of Dean and was desperately pulling at his own cock, hand thrust into his boxers while his eyes remained glued on Dean. Dean gave him his best leer as encouragement, too strung out and sticky with heat and his orgasm to offer more. Sam came faster than Dean was expecting, his voice breaking on Dean's name. He paused for a moment, then collapsed back on to the bed.

"So, how hot did that make you?" asked Sam a few minutes later, when they'd both got their breathing under control.

Dean had completely forgotten about the weather. Now that Sam had drawn his attention to it though, he could feel the oppressiveness of the heat pressing down on his skin. "Pretty damn hot," he replied, before adding smugly, "but you already knew that, from the way you were looking."

Sam snorted tiredly, and Dean could tell he was already falling asleep. "Yeah," he agreed, "but then I always think you're pretty damn hot."

"You and the rest of the population," said Dean, trying to suppress the warm glow from Sam's words. Sam just made a quiet, amused noise in reply, and Dean let it be, shutting his own eyes. There was still time for that nap before they went grave-digging.

Except that he couldn't seem to get to sleep now. His mind was working again, stuck on the six months thing. It seemed so incredible that they'd managed to have this thing for that long and not end up having a massive fight, or one of them ( _Sam_ ) cutting and running from the weirdness.

"Sam," he said, his eyes opening and staring at the motel ceiling.

"Mmmm?" hummed Sam, clearly half asleep.

Dean paused, not sure what he'd been intending to say. "I...this is..." he started, then stopped himself. What did you say to your brother on your six month anniversary? _Maybe I should just buy him flowers,_ thought Dean, _then we could just laugh it off_. He didn't want to laugh it off though - it was too big a deal that they'd made it this far.

"You're not going to run from this," he said in the end, a statement rather than a question.

"No," agreed Sam, sounding more awake.

Dean nodded and kept looking at the ceiling. "Sam, I..." he trailed off again.

"Yeah," said Sam, quietly, sounding as if he knew what Dean wasn't saying. Dean turned his head to look at Sam and met his eyes, gazing with dark seriousness. Sam offered him a quiet smile and Dean felt something inside himself relax. He didn't need to find the words.

"Let's get some sleep," he said instead. Sam nodded and let his eyes drift shut, his breathing slipping into a slow rhythm a few minutes later. Dean watched him for a while, then shut his own eyes, letting the wave of contentment pull him down into sleep.

 

 

The End


End file.
